


Caesar

by Bastet5



Series: The Wild Hunt [13]
Category: FBI: Most Wanted (TV 2020)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gen, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Skeletons In The Closet, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24525817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet5/pseuds/Bastet5
Summary: Mid-October 2019A late-night wake-up call from one of Kateri's oldest 'friends'.A mass-shooting that could envelop the Bronx in an all-out, multi-sided gang war.When the team's original target is revealed to not be the culprit after all, Kateri and Barnes find themselves drawn back in by parts of their pasts that they would much prefer to stay there.
Relationships: Clinton Skye & Original Female Character(s), Kenny Crosby & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Hunt [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678864
Comments: 65
Kudos: 14





	1. Sunday, October 13: Day 1

A sudden knocking sound woke Kateri from a deep sleep. Caught for a few moments in the fading wisps of a dream—a pleasant one, not a nightmare—she looked around her bedroom groggily, wondering if the knocking sound she had heard had been in her dream or was actually coming from somewhere around her in her apartment. _I hate getting woken up in the middle of a dream. Always so muzzy-headed._ Kateri sat up slowly, the covers pooling around her waist, and rubbed her eyes. _Always takes twice as long to wake up._

_What’d I hear?_

Her puzzlement about the origin of the knocking sound that had roused her from her dream was answered a moment later when the knocking sound came again. _Okay. Definitely not in my dream. That’s my front door. Bloody h**l._ Kateri glanced down at the clock. It was 4am in the morning. _Double bloody h**l._ There were no good reason that someone would be knocking at her door at this wee hour of the morning.

 _Since I haven’t heard the fire alarm, someone is either dead or dying … please, God, no … or I might be about to have a very unpleasant meeting_.

 _Might be some other options, but … none of ‘em are going to be good_.

Kateri threw back the covers and stood up, grabbing her Glock from the bedside drawer as she did so. _Should I call someone? … If this is about to go bad, no time_. Not bothering to put on shoes, she warily made her way through her darkened apartment toward the front door. The knocking came again, more urgently this time. _It’s an urgent knock_ , she thought to herself, _but not an_ _I’m-about-to-bust-through-your-door_ _one_. Keeping her body perpendicular to the door to make herself a smaller target if someone started shooting and lessen her chance of being shot, Kateri looked out the peep hole and saw only one person with a familiar but not so welcome face.

_What in all the bloody blue blazes is Pedro doing in my bloody apartment complex at my bloody door at bloody 4am in the bloody morning?_

Pedro … _I don’t remember what his last name is, if I ever knew in the first place_ … was a middleman in the Underground Crew, who was occasionally tasked with bringing intel to Kateri if she needed a favor or some help and Billy could not come himself. (Despite being the boss, Billy usually was the one who provided or brought any info Kateri needed, a last holdover of a nearly two-decade long, messed-up relationship.) Pedro himself had about six inches and fifty pounds on Kateri, and though he lacked the prominent scars Billy had, he made up for that lack of eye-catchiness with about six or seven very visible and colorful tattoos, which were just as eye-catching in their own way.

_At least that hoody hides his face and most of his tattoos._

_Hopefully nothing interesting got caught on the cams._

_If it does, my day might get reallllyyyyyy interesting._

Kateri undid the deadbolt and the chain and opened the front door. After glancing one way and then the other, she stepped back and motioned Pedro inside silently. Once the door was shut and relocked, she hissed, “Please tell me no one saw you coming inside, and what the h**l are you doing here? Do you know what time it is? Billy knows I don’t want Crew at my place.”

_I have made that clear to him so many times!_

With a glance at the gun in her hand, Pedro stuck his hands in his pockets, which did not really make her feel better— _Crew or not, I’d rather see his hands_ —and rocked casually on his heels, “Course no one saw me, chica. I’m not such a newbie as that. Boss sent me. He needs to talk to you.”

_I’m the one that goes to Billy. As he ever sent someone to fetch me before … Not that I recall._

_This is new._

_New with him is not usually good._

_Ugh. It’s too early in the morning for this._

“Now?” Kateri asked incredulously, “It’s 4am in the bloody morning. Can’t it wait until the sun’s up, at least?”

_Seriously, Billy?_

Pedro shook his head, his face sobering, “It’s an emergency. Boss wouldn’t have sent me if it weren’t.”

 _Bloody h**l_.

Kateri sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand, the hand not wrapped around her Glock. It was just 4 bloody am, and already she wanted this day to be over. _I can feel a headache coming on_. “I don’t get involved in Crew business,” she bit out, “If Billy got himself in trouble, that’s a mess of his own making.”

_I told him I’ll put in a good word for him at his trial … if he makes it that far … about the cases he’s helped me with, but that’s bloody it._

“Not that kind of emergency. It’s bigger than that. It’s a city problem,” Pedro insisted. There was an urgency in his voice that Kateri had rarely, if ever, heard. _Double bloody h**l_. “Billy guarantees your safety, as always.”

_Pedro sounds genuinely worried._

_Somethin’ big did happen, but what???_

“Yea, and that hasn’t worked so well for either of us before,” Kateri snapped back. She rubbed her forehead again and sighed heavily … again. “Go wait outside. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

_I’d better see what Billy wants, however strange this situation is._

Pedro departed as quietly as he seemed to have come, and Kateri relocked her front door behind him. _Bloody h**l. This was not how I was expecting my day to go. Better get moving_. She only had ten minutes, and Pedro was freaked out enough that he might come back looking for her if she was not actually outside in ten minutes. _Should I call one of the others?_ She mused on that question as she pulled on her day clothes and fastened on her gun. Her backup gun and knife went into her boots, and two extra mags, one for each gun, went into each of the thigh pockets on her cargo pants. _No time._

_Depending on what happened, Billy might not be as willing to talk either._

_I used to be used to going into things like this by myself._

_Now it’s making the hairs on my neck stand on end._

_But it’s Billy …_

A lot had changed since her work with Organized Crime had ended. Kateri had grown used to having a reliable, trustworthy team and a partner at her back who would be with her to the end.

 _Better to be safe than sorry, though_.

Dressing only took a couple minutes. _It’ll only take me a minute to get outside_. Kateri used the rest of her time to draft a quick email to her teammates. She had left her computer running several hours earlier so it didn’t take any time to get her email open.

_Send to Clinton. CC to everyone else._

_Set to automatically send at … 8am, if I’m not back to cancel it_.

_No idea how long this'll take. That should give me enough time._

_..._

_Enough time or not, I won't have a choice about heading back with this hanging over my head._

“Clinton,” the email read, “if you’re reading this, then I’m probably in a pickle. It’s 4am. Pedro, one of Billy’s lackeys, just appeared at my apartment, saying that it’s an emergency and Billy needs to see me. Whatever he says happened, if true, might have much wider effects than just a potential gang spat. I’m going to go see what’s up—Billy wouldn’t send someone to fetch me at this hour if it weren’t urgent. I’ve set this email to automatically send at 8am if I’m not back to stop it. If I’m not back by that time, I’m probably in trouble. I’m sorry to make you all come find me again, but … please come find me. Kateri.”

Kateri logged off of her email. Getting back in would require her very long and complicated password that was only in her head to be reentered, and then she also logged off of her computer account, which would also require another long password to log back in.

_Two small layers of protection in case something’s hinky._

_And I can type quickly if I cut it close getting back._

After grabbing her dark leather jacket from her closet, Kateri exited her apartment and headed downstairs as quickly and quietly as she could. This was not the time to be drawing attention to herself. _I’m also supposed to meet Kenny at 8:15 for breakfast, so if something were to happen to my email and to me, he’d notice when I didn’t show up._

Before she stepped outside to meet Pedro, Kateri halted just inside the door of her building, unlocked her phone and turned the GPS for any good that would do her. _Knowing Hana, she’d find a way to find this data_.

The decision to institute yet another layers of backup protection upon backup protection made Kateri realize how uneasy she was starting to feel about the whole situation. She trusted Billy … mostly … usually … despite his profession, but these circumstances were so extremely, utterly out of the ordinary and had rattled her.

 _You could not go_ , one side of her brain noted. _Not sure about that, actually._

_Better to go than risk being moved forcibly._

_Billy’s not good at taking a no for an answer, even from me._

_He’s just a bit nicer with me._

_Maybe I should have called one of the others …_

_Pedro might not take no for an answer now either._

Pedro was waiting just a few yards away from the main door of that led into Kateri’s wing of the apartment complex. He was pacing back and forth and back and forth in a non-lit up area that Kateri knew was also out of the sphere of the security cameras at the front of the building. He led the way up to the end of a block, which was weird, where a black SUV with tinted windows was waiting. It looked like something Kateri herself drove. Now she really balked. A car meant a longer trip. _I’d thought Billy would be nearby. We’re inside Crew territory here_. There were quiet spots where they could talk unseen even in Belmont.

“Come on,” Pedro hissed, motioning her on, “We gotta go.”

 _Bloody, bloody, bloody h**l_.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound now. I think if I don’t go, I will be moved_.

_Clinton’s going to kill me for doing this!_

_Scratch that, everyone’s going to kill me for running off by myself._

Concealing her annoyance and the unease twisting in her gut, Kateri got in the car, and they drove off. Pedro and the driver were both in the front seat, and she was the only one in the back, which made her one iota more comfortable, but she kept her hand near her gun just the same. The car trip was on the longer side, half-an-hour or more. She wasn’t sure of the exact time, since showing her unease by checking the time was not a good idea either. Kateri counted off turns in her head, a series of left and right turns that she repeated over and over to herself.

_They could be taking a longer route to throw me off the tracks of wherever this place is._

Finally, they arrived … somewhere. Kateri had finally lost count of all the turns, and _I wouldn’t recognize this area anyway._ They were still in New York City … _I think. Could be in Jersey, I suppose_ … but in an older, kinda stinky neighborhood that looked like a prime area for a crime fest with shady people lurking around and no street lights. Pedro led Kateri half-way up the block to a row house, which he entered, motioning for her to follow.

_At least the inside looks better than the outside._

The inside of the house looked normal, and Billy was waiting for them inside, sitting on the steps that led up to the second floor. _This must be one of his safe houses the cops don’t know about. He’s taking a risk bringing me here._

“Good, you’re here,” Billy almost seemed to give a sigh of relief.

_Was he waiting at the door for us?_

_Did he hear us coming? Eh, he’s got look-outs, I’m sure. Someone told him we were coming._

_Good grief, even he looks a little freaked_.

Kateri hiked an eyebrow, trying to conceal her unease, “Yea, after your lackey woke me up at 4am in the bloody morning, so this’d better be good.”

Billy’s reply was less than printable but got across the seriousness of the situation, “Come on, let’s sit. We gotta talk.”

Pedro disappeared upstairs, and Kateri followed Billy into the living room and took a seat on the other end of the thankfully clean sofa from him. She waved off the offer of coffee.

 _I’ve got my limits in how much I trust you and the others_.

_No way I’m drinking somethin’ I haven’t seen opened._

_Wouldn’t do that anyway unless my team or about three other people hand it to me._

“So, what’s bad enough to get me out of bed at 4am?” Kateri asked, turning sideways on the couch and propping one elbow on the back of the sofa.

“There’s a gang war coming,” Billy declared, his voice deadly serious.

_…_

_Oh, bloody h**l_.

_He wouldn’t joke about this._

_…_

_Bloody h**l_.

“What happened?” Kateri snapped, face going pale, “What does this have to do with me? You know very well that I want to stay bloody well clear of your infighting. I come to you if I’ve got questions, that’s it. Crew business is your bloody problem and has nothing to do with me.”

Billy made a face, “Yes, yes, you’ve told me that over and over. There’s a gang war coming, and the Crew might get pulled into it, which means you need to watch your back.”

“Because?”

_It’s not like we have open dealings._

_I come to the park occasionally, and there’ve been like two or three unfortunate sightings of us together in how many years…_

“Word on the street’s already hummin. Couple hours’ ago, bunch of Rollin’ Sixes and some others from the surroundin’s got themselves offed. Rollin’ Sixes are goin’ to be out for blood.”

Kateri squeezed her eyes shut and massaged her forehead. _Now I really have a headache. Of all the other gangs in the Bronx, it had to be the bloody Rolling Sixes_.

“Bloody, bloody h**l, that’s just perfect, but you still haven’t answered my question. What does this have to do with your Crew or me? Just because you’ve had problems with the Sixes before doesn’t mean that they’re comin’ after you again.”

_Or after me._

Billy bounced up from the couch and began pacing the room, forcing Kateri to shift positions periodically to keep track of where he was. “Come on, chica, think about it. Jackson’s been eyin’ my land for years. He’s jealous. He’ll take any excuse to come after me, and chaos like this is as good a time as any to expand.”

“Fair enough,” Kateri admitted. _Familiar reasoning. Starting to feel like I never got out of this life_ , “but what does this have to do with me?”

Billy shot her an incredulous look and paused his restless pacing, “Do I need to spell it out for you? Did that scar of yours finally fade?”

_No, it very bloody well has not._

_I have more scars than pairs of shoes._

“I think you bloody well know the answer to that question. Of course, it hasn’t,” Kateri shot back, heat creeping into her voice, “And unless there’s something you’ve been forgetting to tell me for _YEARS_ , there was never any conclusive evidence whether the Sixes had IDed me and put a hit out on me specifically or whether I was the victim of unfortunate circumstances and got caught in the crossfire, given that you had been with me just a few minutes earlier and weren’t even out of the park yet when the shots got fired.”

“Don’t mean you don’t need to watch your back.”

 _Sometimes your helpful advice really sounds patronizing_.

Now Kateri really did roll her eyes, “Billy, we’ve known each other for 20 odd years. You know I keep an eye out in gang territory, but I don’t dress like I did then, act like I did then, or even live where I did then.”

“Still,” Billy hedged.

_What are you not telling me?_

“Are you just trying to look out for me, or is there something you haven’t told me?” Kateri’s voice took on a hard edge, “Because based on what you told me later, last time I checked the Sixes thought I or whomever they thought I was was dead.”

 _This day keeps getting better and better_.

“And there’s been no talky-talk to make me think otherwise,” Billy replied with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, which seemed unfitting with both his age and the scar that bisected his face, “Jackson’s still the boss same as then, and I never IDed all of that crew. There could be some of ‘em still around, and there might be more of the Sixes out on the street, so watch your back.”

The conversation meandered from there, as Kateri tried to get whatever else information she could from Billy, anything that might be helpful and anything about the Sixes that she could take up to Organized Crime … once she got home and had time to make some notes. _Great, I was hoping to avoid having to go anywhere near my old unit for like … forever_! Once 7am started approaching, Kateri started trying to wrap things up. Her warning email was hanging over her head, and she knew she had to get back to deal with that or set off a firestorm.

At 7am, Kateri rose from the couch, keeping one hands on the couch arm to unobtrusively steady herself. “I need to get back. Keep me updated if there’s stuff I need to know.” _Up for 3 hours and no food, I need breakfast, too._

Billy nodded and bellowed for Pedro. Kateri was taken back to the same dark SUV with tinted windows. The sun was coming up by now, and she could see more of the street now, but she still did not recognize where she was. _Could be in New York or Jersey for all I know._ The route home was long and circuitous, and this time she kept a closer eye on her watch. She knew how long it would take her to get inside and get her logged into her computer and email.

_There’s no way on earth that I want that email going out when nothing’s gone wrong._

_That would start a disaster of epic proportions._

It was 7:40am when Kateri was dropped off down the street from her building. She kept a warier eye out as she went inside, looking unobtrusively for newcomers or those who looked out of place. By 7:45am, she was letting herself into her apartment, and two minutes after that Kateri canceled the “Please come find me” email.

 _One thing down. More to go_.

Grabbing a soda and a granola bar from the kitchen, Kateri doubled check that the front door was securely bolted and then headed back into her bedroom and then into the depths of her closet. Pushing aside several boxes of stuff and low hanging clothes, Kateri revealed a small safe that was hidden at the back of her closet and bolted to the floor. Inside the safe were a large stack of notebooks in two neat stacks. Kateri pulled out the top notebook on the right stack and, relocking the safe, returned to sit on her bed.

The contents of the notebook to anyone but her looked like gibberish, which was entirely the point. These notebooks contained every scrap of intel, every location, every contact, everything she knew after years of working undercover, everything that currently floated around inside her brain about her past line of work. She could not take the risk of what she knew dying with her in the event of an unexpected and unfortunate demise. Thus, she kept a written copy of all she knew in these notebooks, and there was also a copy of the information saved to a secure server that Hana had helped her set up. To keep her information doubly secure, Kateri composed her notebooks in her head in Mohawk, which she then scrambled with a cipher, and then wrote down the scrambled version. Writing anything took concentration and a whole lot of time. In the event of her untimely demise, Hana knew how to get into the server, one of her colleagues in Organized Crime—not in her old unit—who she actually trusted knew the cipher ( _I learned this from him in the first place_ ), and Clinton could read the intel once it was unciphered.

The buzzing of her phone jolted her from her work. It was text from Kenny, *I’m almost to your place anyway. Want a ride to work?*

_Wait what?_

_I think I missed something_.

Kateri suddenly noticed it was almost 8:15. It seemed to her like she had just sat down to work. She backtracked out of that messaging thread and suddenly saw a text from the boss from a couple minutes earlier. They had a case.

 _Great. Just one more thing I need_. She sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Kateri sent quick acknowledgements to both. _Thankfully all my stuff’s already packed._ She grabbed her duffle and notebook, stuck her pencil behind her ear to hold it, detoured by the kitchen long enough to grab another soda for the road and a bagel, and then went downstairs to wait for Kenny.

Kenny arrived only a minute after she got downstairs. “So much for breakfast,” he said rather mournfully as she climbed into his jeep.

_Hmmmm?_

“Yea, would have been much better food than a bagel and granola bar,” Kateri replied somewhat distractedly, attention already going back to her notebook, “We’ll have to reschedule for once this case is done.”

 _Where was I?_ Kateri shoved her duffle into the back seat and then pulled her pencil from behind her ear.

Kenny gave her the side-eye as he pulled out of the parking lot, “Haven’t seen that notebook out in a while. Something wrong? Thought you were done with that work.”

_I wish._

“Work isn’t always done with me,” Kateri replied with a snort, “It’s a long story, which I’ll tell you later. I’ve gotta go upstairs anyway before we head out.”

“I’ll go with you, if Clinton can’t.” From the tone of his voice, it was quite clear that Kenny’s words were not a polite offer, but a statement of fact. Her teammates had opinions about her former unit, and apparently that extended to not leaving her alone with them.

 _I shan’t complain too much_.

Kateri and Kenny were the first to arrive at HQ, surprisingly, and she settled down at the conference table to keep scribing while Kenny went off to make them both coffee. _I’d forgotten how bloody long it takes to write this way._ She groused to herself, shaking a cramp out of her hand. _You’re death-gripping the pencil._

Hana with Barnes a few steps behind blew in a few minutes later, Hana heading straight toward her desk to get things ready for the briefing. _What’s the case anyway?_ The text from Jess had been unusually short on the details.

“What’s the case?” Kateri finally asked a few minutes later when she got to the end of a sentence and had to rest her hand for a minute again.

“Gang hit up in the Bronx,” Hana replied, “I’ll have the poster up in a minute.”

_Uh, oh._

_This can’t be a coincidence_.

“What’s the name of our guy?” Those thoughts must have leaked into Kateri’s tone of voice since Hana turned her chair to send her a puzzled, concerned frown.

“Tyrone Jackson, boss …” Hana replied, glancing back toward her tablet quickly.

“Of the Rolling Sixes, I know,” Kateri finished, interrupting her before she could finish. Then the name sunk in, and her voice rose an octave in pitch, “He took out his own people????”

_What in all the bloody blue blazes is going on?_

_Has Jackson lost his ever lovin’ mind and gone completely, stark-raving bonkers?_

_He hasn’t made it this far for this long by doing crazy things like this._

“Yea. How’d you know?” Hana asked, and now everyone was sending her puzzled looks, which made Kateri realize that (A) she had almost shrieked her last question and (B) she had shot up out of her seat in sheer surprise.

“What’s going on?” Clinton’s voice suddenly came from the direction of the door … behind her, making Kateri start violently and spin toward the new voice.

_Bloody h**l, partner. You scared the Dickins out of me._

“That’s what we were about to ask Kat,” replied Barnes, glancing over at Clinton in the doorway with Jess right behind him.

All eyes turned to Kateri, which did nothing to help her comfort level in the unexpected situation. Her shoulders curled slightly, and she sank back into her chair with a tired groan. “I’ve gotta bit of insider info,” she said, “but apparently what I was told is a lot more incomplete than it seemed.”

_I shoulda stayed in bed._

The boss just looked at Kateri for a long moment and then nodded, taking control of the situation, “Alright. Let Hana give us what’s she got, and then, Kat, you can add in what you know from your sources.”

Kateri nodded. The others went back to finishing packing but kept shooting her concerned looks from time to time. _I can feel them looking at me_. She propped her elbows up on the table and buried her face in her hands. _How is this my life?_ Her “I have not eaten in much too long” headache had faded but was fast being replaced by an “I live a very crazy, stressful life” headache. A hand settled on her shoulder a few minutes later, making her start … again.

 _Bloody h**l_.

_Oh, it’s only you._

Clinton was settling into the chair beside her, “You okay, kid?” He asked … in Mohawk.

“My life is insane,” Kateri replied in the same language, somewhat melodramatically. To be fair, she was having a very _crazy, odd, insane, topsy-turvy, take your pick_ morning. _I should have stayed in bed and told Pedro to take a long walk off a short peer._

Before either could say more, Hana threw the wanted poster up on the screen and headed to the conference table, bypassing Kenny who was doing pushups on the floor … because Kenny.

“Tyrone Dereck Jackson, leader of the Rolling Sixes up in the Bronx,” Hana declared, taking a seat at the table, “Wanted for the murder of five gang members, two of his own and three from local Diablos, a rival Latin gang.”

_Has Jackson taken utter leave of his senses?_

_Why would he murder his own crew?_

_Was a faction in the Sixes plotting a takeover,r and Jackson made his view of that clear???_

_So much for word on the street_.

“Gang intel say they might have been plotting a splinter group against their own people. Bottom line, Ty set off a gang war.”

“That’d make sense,” Kateri put in, rubbing her face with her hands, “Jackson’s not stupid enough to start gunning down his people without a very good reason. Taking out your own people is not a good way to stay in power.”

 _Really not a good way_.

“Still,” Kenny added, voice dripping with puzzlement, “a beef between two street gangs?” The unspoken question was _why the h**l is this our problem?_

“A beef that could start a gang war that envelops most of the Bronx,” Kateri corrected.

_Especially if the Crew get involved, though Billy’s goin’ to want to stay out of it._

_Gang wars are bad for business. He’d rather everyone else fight and let him gather the spoils once everyone else is dead_.

“Wait for it,” replied Hana, “DEA had an undercover, a Rafael Garcia. Deceased with one shot from an AR-15 courtesy of Ty Jackson.”

 _Bloody h**l_.

“What’s the evidence on Jackson?” Barnes asked. Besides Kateri, she was the only other person in the room with undercover experience with Bronx street gangs.

“The NYPD has him running from the crime scene,”— _unusually sloppy of him_ —”they IDed his Top of the World jacket and his bike, which was found abandoned.”

 _Very sloppy of him_.

“And no one’s found Jackson yet?” Kateri asked. _He’s got a lot of resources to use to try to hide._

Hana shook her head, “The NYPD has been rounding up his gang members and working ‘em, but him they haven’t found.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Jess took off his glasses and then looked over toward Kateri who was sitting on the other side of Clinton. “So, you said had intel about the case?”

 _Time to face the music._ She knew the others … Clinton especially … were not going to be happy.

“Some, kinda,” Kateri hedged, leaning back into her chair with a heavy sigh, “Though after this, I realize there was a lot more I wasn’t told. So, Pedro, one of Billy’s lackeys showed up at my apartment at 4am this morning, saying Billy needed to talk to me like right then. He was real on edge, and it was pretty clear something had gone down, so I agreed to go.”

The moment what she was saying sunk into her teammates was explicitly clear by the looks on their faces.

“Wait, hold up,” Kenny exclaimed, “You went by yourself?” Both eyebrows had crawled toward his hairline, and his face was almost … _what word do I want?_ … a cross between horror and fury.

“It was 4 bloody am in the morning, Kenny,” Kateri replied, “and Pedro was in a rush. Wasn’t time to call.”

“Billy was at one of his safehouses I didn’t know about,”—the surrounding faces got even less pleased, especially Clinton’s— “He was about as on edge as Pedro was.”

_I’m never going to hear the end of this._

_Not that I don’t deserve it._

_Already regretted it before I got in that car._

“Are the Rolling Sixes and the Underground Crew rivals?” Jess asked.

_Do you all really dislike my old unit?_

“Uh, yeaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” Kateri drawled, shoving her hands into her pockets and slouching a little further, “They’ve been bitter rivals for years. Jackson and Billy hate each other’s guts. Jackson’s been jealous of Billy’s success, so I’m told, and wants to expand into Crew territory.”

“Okay. So why did Billy want to talk?” Put in Barnes.

“Give me a head’s up and a warning to watch my back. Billy expects Jackson to use the chaos of the gang war to try to expand, possibly into Crew territory, and with more Sixes around, I’d need to watch my back, though if the NYPD is rounding up as many as you said, that’ll help that situation.”

 _Clinton’s too quiet._ Kateri groaned internally. _I’m going to die. Not literally, but …_

“Have you worked with them before? Do they know your face?” Jess asked. She knew why he was asking: Kateri and Barnes were the main two with undercover experience and know-how and intel about street gangs in the Bronx. Any leads and contacts they had could be helpful.

_Now everyone’s really going to explode when I answer this._

“Worked with them, no. Do they know my face, that’s the problem, I don’t know for sure,” Kateri made a face and shrugged.

“What are you not saying?” Clinton finally asked. From his tone, it was clear he was … very, very, extremely not happy with her.

Kateri sighed, glancing over at him quickly before letting her eyes flick away, “A few months before I met you all for the first time, the Crew and the Sixes were in the midst of a several-month long gang war. Just after Thanksgiving, a hit went down at Claremont Park. Two of the Crew were killed, and I was injured. The problem was that there was never conclusive evidence of whether the Sixes had IDed me, thought I was a close ‘ally’ of Billy’s and put a hit out on me specifically or whether I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time since Billy was in the vicinity, too. Most of those on that hit are now dead, but not all, we don’t think, and Jackson was the boss then, too.”

_The unknowns are the problem._

“Do you think you could be recognized?” Jess asked. From the furrowed brow and look in his eyes, Kateri couldn’t tell if he was thinking, puzzled, concerned, angry, or a mixture of all of the above. “Would it be best for you not to be involved with the case?”

Kateri shrugged, “There’s a chance, yes, but that’s a true with most all of the work I do, and I’ve changed a lot in the last five years. You wouldn’t want me undercover in close proximity to Jackson or his high-level goons, but as long as I’m careful, I think it’ll work.”

Jess nodded, slipping his glasses into his shirt pocket. From the look on his face, there was still a reckoning for Kateri to face … but not quite yet. “Alright. Hana, Kenny, Clinton, and Kat, get with gang intel. Sweep up whatever they have on Jackson’s communications. Start connecting the dots. We have his home address, yea?”

“NYPD assured me that they tore the place apart and found nothing useful,” Hana replied.

 _I’ll believe it when I see it_.

“Yea, well we’ll see,” Jess seemed rather skeptical about that, too. He got up and came around the far side of the table to look more closely at the screens, “Let’s stay on our toes. He’s armed with an AR and who knows what else.”

 _And has nothing to lose and everything to gain_.

_Probably a long list of what else, knowing the Sixes._

“A local banger, how far can he get?” Asked Kenny, moving toward the door from the fridge, “We’ll be home before dinner.” Apparently, he had finally taken the chance to get some food to replace the breakfast he and Kateri would have been having if the day had gone normally.

 _Great. You jinxed us_.

Kenny and Hana headed on outside, and Kateri and Clinton were making to follow, bags in hand, when Jess called for Kateri to wait a moment.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Kateri turned back, hoping she didn’t have a deer in the headlight’s look on her face. _Time to face the music … for the first time today_. She set her bag back down on what of the chairs and tried not to stop her shoulders from curling. _He might yell, but you’re not really going to die_.

“I thought we had dealt with this issue, Kat,” Jess said. His voice was disappointed, which was worse than him yelling, “You don’t go alone to meet with your contacts. You don’t go running off without backup.”

_Almost’d rather him yell…_

If she had been wanted to be a smart-aleck, which she did not, Kateri would have noted that when Clinton or one of the others came to her usual meeting spot with Billy, they were usually close by but not actually with her, which kinda, technically qualified as her being alone.

_Probably?_

“It was 4am in the morning,” Kateri half-heartedly protested. Going by herself had seemed a reasonable idea at first given the circumstances, and then it had seemed like a really, horrifically bad idea, _but it was too late by then_ , “And I had assumed Billy was going to meet me nearby, not off in the bloody boonies.”

“What was your plan if the meet went bad?” Jess pushed. “No one knew you were gone.”

“I had an email set to automatically send at 8am if I didn’t make it back, and Kenny and I were going to have breakfast soon thereafter so he would have known if I didn’t show up to that,” Kateri replied.

_Seemed like a perfect plan at 4am in the morning._

_Now, not quite so much._

“4am to 8. That’s a lot of lead time if things went bad,” the boss noted.

“Yea, I know. It seemed like a perfect adequate idea at 4 in the morning,” Kateri admitted sheepishly, “By the time I started to realize things weren’t like I thought, it was too late to back out. … Clinton says I need to be more careful around Billy and the Crew.”

“If you had time to write an email, you had time to call one of us, so don’t do that again.”

“Yesss, boss.”

With that, she was dismissed. _One ear-chewing down. More to go_. To be fair, Kateri admitted it was deserved. She should have been more careful. Old habits were hard to break, even after all these years, and this had been a most out of the ordinary situation.

_And a most out of the ordinary morning._

Only a few minutes had passed since the others had gone outside, and Kenny and Hana were just pulling out as Kateri exited the team’s room and made her way toward Clinton’s car. Her partner was leaning on the trunk waiting for her, and he did not look happy.

Kateri was quite sure that Kenny was probably mad at her, too, which _is just perfect._ The only thing worse than having Jess or Kenny angry with her was when Clinton was angry with her … or disappointed. She looked up to him, respected him, loved him, and it was equal parts like letting your partner/best friend down and letting your father-figure down.

 _It’s horrible_.

 _Time to eat crow, as the saying goes_.

Clinton raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak as she approached, leaving Kateri fumbling for an opener.

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot,” Kateri said stopping a few paces away and stuffing her hands into her pockets to keep herself from fiddling with her fingers.

Her partner just starred at her for a long moment and then pinched the bridge of his nose, “Between you and Jess … I think most of my grey hair has your names on it.”

Blushing, Kateri looked down, scuffed one boot on the pavement. “Sorry. I don’t do it intentionally,” she muttered, “My life is nuts sometimes.”

_Trouble has a way of finding me, or so it seems some days._

“I’d thought we trained you out of running off on your own five years ago,” Clinton replied, one eyebrow crawling its way up his forehead.

“It was 4am in the bloody morning,” Kateri gave a half-hearted protest, shaking her head, “I was groggy and rattled seeing Pedro show up at my place. My plans made good sense for that hour of the morning … right up until they didn’t, and then it was too late change things.”

 _Lots of things make more sense at 4am than they do later in the day_.

“You have a blind spot when it comes to Billy, Kateri. You trust him on instinct, and then you second-guess yourself … later.”

“I know. You’ve been warning me for years. It’s just …” Kateri broke-off and made a face, “He was my brother long before he was a gang boss, and old habits are bloody hard to break sometimes despite how ever many times I tell myself to be more bloody careful.”

Clinton’s shoulder relaxed, and he gave a small half-smile, “I know how that goes, kid. Just please be more careful. … I’d hate to have to break in a new partner.”

_You’re calling me ‘kid’ again. That’s good._

_Hate to break in a new partner … In other words, don’t die. I couldn’t do without you._

Kateri gave a sheepish grin, her words spilling out in a rush, “I really am sorry. Everything was happening too early and too quickly, and by the time I realized things weren’t like I thought and realized what I was doing was risky and you were going to kill me … it was too late.”

“Kid, you’re repeating yourself.”

Kateri went red again. _Thankfully, it doesn’t show too much on me_.

“We’re good, kid,” Clinton finished, “Just, please, don’t do that again.”

Kateri nodded. Before she could say more, the door to the team’s room swung open with a thunk and a squeak of hinges, and Jess and Barnes appeared. The boss called out that they—the boss and Barnes—were headed to see if there were any clues from what was left of Jackson’s apartment and that they—Clinton and Kat—better get movin’ to meet up with gang intel.

The team’s liaisons with gang intel were out at the warehouse where the shooting took place, going over what the NYPD and FBI’s ERT had already gone over and over. Hana and Kenny were both still outside when Clinton and Kateri arrived. Hana had her laptop propped up on the hood of a car and was talking a mile a minute to what must be the gang-intel’s computer tech, their voices drifting across on the breeze. Seeing them drive up, Kenny suddenly switched direction toward them.

His face was like thunder.

_Bloody h**l._

“Here we go again,” Kateri muttered to herself as she climbed from the car.

“You,” Kenny rounded on Kateri first.

Considering that he had about six inches and probably fifty pounds on her, Kateri was forced to remind herself of two important facts and fight the instinctive instinct to take a giant step backwards. _One, you aren’t afraid of Kenny. You were an idiot, and he’s worried and, therefore, looks like he’s mad. Two, if he did lose it, he’d be going through Clinton to get to me_.

“Don’t. Do. That. Again,” Kenny finished with a glower.

Kateri nodded obligingly. _Trust me, I won’t_. “You’re the third person to tell me that. I won’t.”

“Good,” Kenny’s face cleared and went back to his usual friendly, open expression, “You two are lucky you’re last here. You just missed one of your old buddies from upstairs, Kat.”

 _And somehow my day actually could get worse_.

“Lucky me,” Kateri replied dryly, rolling her eyes, “Which one of ‘em?”

A look of concentration rolled over Kenny’s face, and he starred off into space for a second, snapping his fingers as if he was trying to dislodge something from his memory.

“The one that looks like a weasel…"

_Ah, that one._

_Is it sad I know which one he means immediately?_

_One wonders whether you really can’t remember his name or not_.

“Thomas,” Kateri confirmed, “One of my old partners.”

“Good riddance,” muttered Kenny, “He really does look a weasel.”

“Is he on the unit assigned to this case?” Clinton asked, a look of concerning crossing his face. He also knew more about Kateri’s history with Thomas than Kenny did. _Not that we’re going to think about Thomas or why Clinton knows as much about him as he does._

Kenny shook his head, “Not that I’ve heard.”

_Good. Last thing I need is to deal with that no-good, smarmy, pompous git._

“For all of his many faults,” Kateri noted, “Thomas is a whiz at what he does …”

“He just has the face and personality of a weasel,” Kenny finished.

Clinton’s face had gone suspiciously blank, which usually meant in a context like this that he agreed with whatever was being said but deemed it impolitic to look like he actually agreed. _That’s his almost-lawyer face_. “What does gang intel have for us?”

“Nothin’ yet,” Kenny replied, “We only just got here a few minutes ago. Hana’s working on getting a copy of what gang intel has on Jackson’s communications. I walked the inside. There’s nothing much to see besides a whole lot of blood. Jackson really got the jump on them.”

 _I can believe that_.

“Jackson’s good,” Kateri replied, following Kenny and Clinton over toward where Hana was working, “Very good. He could give you-know-who a run for his money in the crazy-smarts department.” That she was referring to Billy was clear to both her companions.

_Name dropping with this many ears is a bad idea even when they’re NYPD and Feebies like us._

_Always possibility of a rotten apple in Denmark._

Hana looked up as they approached, even as her fingers kept flying across her keyboard. “I’ve almost got the files I need for now,” she said as a greeting, “but this is going to take me a while to go through. There’s a lot here, and it’s not that well organized.”

 _Considering some gang bosses I know, lack of organization could be as much their fault as the collector’s fault_.

Kateri looked over at Clinton, “If you can get me the dossiers our gang intel unit and the NYPD has on Jackson, I can start looking through, see what sense I can make of it, and where’s a good place to start for chasin’ him down, shakin’ trees.”

Her partner nodded and stepped away to get a start on that. Kateri would have done it herself, except that the Organized Crime and the gang unit in the FBI did not always get along with the gang unit in the NYPD— _competition for the same collars some days_ —and Kateri’s parting of the ways with her old unit had been … _on less than good terms_.

“I won’t be much help in broad daylight,” Kateri continued to Kenny and Hana, “but I can at least give you a place to start.”

“Whatever you can give us’ll be helpful,” Kenny noted, “You just stay in one piece. Noticed you casing the place before you got out of the car.”

“Better to be safe than sorry. I survived one hit from the Sixes. I might not be so lucky next time.”

* * *

Information and updates in hand, the four agents left the scene of the gang hit an hour later and made for the bus which had been moved to a safe location in the Bronx. Even though they were still in New York for now and not that far from HQ, the bus would serve as the base of operations and liaison point with the NYPD for as long as this case went on.

Except for a couple of ERT techs, the bus was empty when the four arrived, and Kateri was glad of that.

_This day’s been crazy enough, and it’s not even noon._

_Last thing I need is the past to rear its ugly head even further_.

Finding a seat at the small table at the back of the bus, Kateri set out her laptop and spread out all the files that the FBI and NYPD had on Ty Jackson and the Rolling Sixes. It was a lot of material, even after years doing gang work, she was still slightly surprised by the sheer volume of information that had been collected.

_Arrest reports_

_Eye-witness testimony_

_Crime-scene photos_

_Security camera footage_

_Texts and emails_

_Maps of known gang haunts_

_Lists of gang members and their known associates_

The list of components went on and on, making Kateri wonder if they had managed to get everything but the kitchen sink. Resolutely shoving away the craziness of the morning and the potential threat looming over her head, Kateri settled down to work. This was her niche. This was what she could do and do very well. Depending on how things went, she might not be much use to the others in the field, but this she could do for them.

Sometime later the bus door opened. Kateri only looked up and around when the boss’ voice pierced through her concentration. _It’s been a whole bloody hour since I started. Seemed like I just sat down_. A water bottle had joined her cup of coffee, evidence that she had really, really, really not been paying to her surroundings. _Single-minded focus, that’s why you keep forgetting to eat some days_. Kateri set her work away for the moment, slid out of the seat and stretched, and then wandered over to the others to see what Jess and Barnes had found at Jackson’s place.

“The cops tore his place to shreds,” Barnes was finishing a description of something, which Kateri had missed the beginning of, “There wasn’t much left to find.”

 _Must be Jackson’s apartment they’re talking about_.

_Not that surprising it’s a mess._

_Bronx’s a menace when it comes to crime and especially gang activity._

_Cops would love to have Billy and Jackson’s heads on proverbial spikes_ _… maybe the literal kind, too, especially with Jackson. More names on the wall cause of him; not so much with Billy._

“Jackson’s been trying to make a name for himself by giving back to the community,” Jess continued, stepping over to the kitchenette area to make himself tea, “There was a news article about him opening up a local grocery store and creating new jobs.”

“Nipsey Hussle without the credentials,” Barnes shook her head.

_The rapper?_

Kateri snorted, “More like trying to challenge Billy for the title of Pablo Escobar of the Bronx considering how much drug running the Sixes do.”

_Filthy living, ruthless tactics, let me try to cover it all up because of my parks and grocery stores._

_Nice try…_

“We did find one thing the cops missed,” Jess noted, “Jackson has a kid.”

_He what now?_

Kateri had unfortunately taken a sip of water right before Jess said those astounding four words, and she began to choke, her eyes going wide in sheer astonishment. Her partner pounded her on the back, and when she could speak again, she asked, voice strangled,

“He has a kid??” From her face, it was clear Kateri could barely believe her ears, and her teammates’ faces shared her incredulous look.

_That is in nobody’s files about him._

_I never heard zilch about that on the street either._

“Uh-huh,” Jess nodded, “He’s one proud Papa. Has the pictures in his apartment to prove it.”

_This gets better and better._

“And the NYPD who searched his place didn’t. See. This?” Kateri asked.

Barnes shook her head. She had taken a seat at the conference table and was sipping from a cup of coffee in her hands, “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Brilliant,” Kateri growled, rolling her eyes, “Sometimes their incompetence still manages to amaze me.”

There were a handful of snorts of agreement. The team, more than once, had had a few bad run-ins with the NYPD. There were a few bad apples and nutsos in every crowd.

Jess finished making and sweetening his tea to a disgusting level— _I can feel my teeth rotting_ —and turned to Hana, who had been typing away and listening at the same time, “Hana, whatever you’re doing, I need you to stop for now. We need to focus on finding this kid. If we find him, maybe we’ll find Jackson.”

* * *

Finding one kid, especially one kid related to a well-known gang boss, was a lot harder than it sounded, even when the team had a picture to help. There was nothing identifying about the little guy’s clothing or the background of the photo, and unlike with an actual crook, there weren’t photo databases to run his picture through. Neither did they know his name, nor did they have a picture of or name for his mother.

_There might be pictures of the kid on the internet somewhere._

_But if the mother has half-a-brain, they wouldn’t be easy to find … even for Hana … considering this is a known, gang-boss’ kid._

_Said gang-boss has a laundry list of enemies … and very few would have compunctions against going after a kid, which is horrifying but sadly true._

By dinner time, some progress had been made … on some tasks. Hana was slowly spiraling outward from New York City in her search for the kid, but no joy yet. There had been a couple “I think I found him!” moments, which had ended up being busts. Kateri herself had been going back and forth between saying search inside the city, outside the city, or both for the kid.

_When it comes to secret love children of gang/mob bosses, there’s no consistency of where the kids stay._

_And I don’t know enough about Jackson to try to guess._

_Billy, yes. Couple other people, yes, but Jackson, no point in trying to guess._

Kateri, however, was making some progress through the FBI and NYPD data on Jackson and his movements as well as on the Sixes. Before the hit years earlier that had nearly taken her out, Kateri had done some work within the Sixes’ territory, never openly and never with the gang itself, but she did have a handful of contacts that she could pump for information.

As hard as she tried, what she got from them was very little.

Even her most helpful, non-gang member contacts were running scared and very hesitant to talk.

What she did learn was that there had been no sightings of Jackson since the shooting— _not surprising. I’d be lying low, too, with everyone out for blood_ —and the whole Bronx undercity was on edge— _also not surprising. Gang war could envelop the whole Bronx and get a lot of people killed_.

There was one thing very clear.

 _It’s going to be a long night_.


	2. Monday, October 14: Day 2

Kateri had been right. It was a very long night. The team had slept in shifts, each getting about four hours sleep, so that the other shift could keep the searches for Jackson’s kid going. With five dead and a potential gang war looming, every minute was of essence. The team needed to find and capture Jackson and fast! By 5am, they had hit the jackpot and located the kid and his mother in Trenton, New Jersey, about an hour-and-a-half from New York City.

“Given the risk,” Jess asked, once the discovery had been made and the team had started packing to head out, “Do you want to come with us or stay here on comms?”

Kateri stepped back, pressing her back against one of the desks in the bus, to let Kenny get past her. “Bloody h**l, yes, I’m coming,” she replied without hesitation, “Everything we do on this job has risks. The problem now is that I don’t know the whole play book to be able fully judge how great the risk is, but this I need to be there for. I have more experience with the Sixes and more recent intel than Barnes does. I’ll be able to get more if I’m there than if I’m listening over comms or potentially feeding you questions.”

_We both left that life—the day to day undercover part—only about a year apart, but because of my contacts, I’ve still got a foot in the door, and I know more of what’s been happening._

_There’s always a risk to this job, always a chance we’re not going to come back every time we step out that door._

_It’s the price we’re willing to pay to do this job, to keep people safe_.

The sun was rising as the team with a SWAT team for backup drove to Trenton. No one knew if Jackson could be hiding out with his son and the boy’s mother. Kateri thought it a distinct possibility. _Would certainly help explain why no one has been able to find Jackson yet_. Kateri spent the drive mostly lost in thought, thinking about Jackson and the hunt and trying to dredge up any information or alternative contacts that she hadn’t tried yet that might prove helpful.

Calloused fingers settled over her left wrist, and Kateri suddenly realized that she had been drumming her fingers on the center console. She sent her partner a sheepish smile.

“How did you survive undercover work with tics like that?” Clinton mused suddenly.

 _That’s an easy question_.

“That’s easy,” Kateri replied, dragging her mind out of the depths of her thoughts and back into the present. _They’ll be time to figure all that out later. Mind on the present for now. Don’t know what you’re heading into._ “They’re my tics. When I’m undercover, I’m not me. With the longer-term ops that I did, I wasn’t just playing a part like we do now. I was … disassociated from myself in some ways. I was someone else, and … my covers didn’t have tics like I do.”

Silence returned in the car for a few minutes, and Kateri let her gaze return to the slowly blooming sunrise and the array of colored leaves on the trees that lined either side of the highway. _Hard to believe it’s already October. Time’s just flying._

“How are you doing with this case?” Her partner asked, glancing over at her quickly, “You’ve been rather quiet.”

 _And that seems unusual? Somedays the two of us together talk about as much as one of the others_.

Kateri shrugged. Once the instinctive “oh, bloody h**l” moment had passed, she did not feel as concerned about the case as some of her teammates seemed to be, though she was still being cautious. “Fine. Just been thinking. There was the instinctive ‘bloody h**l’ moment yesterday, since I’ve been steppin’ carefully around the Sixes for years, but there’s no guarantee I’ll run into someone who knows me, and considering I actually have backup now, I’m in less danger than I was then.”

That comment garnered a dark look, not at her, but at the memory of the some of the idiocy and incompetence of her former unit. There were good reasons why Kateri avoided Organized Crime and especially her old unit like the plague and why her teammates would have a fit if she interacted with them without backup.

 _Some things are better left in the past … way in the past_.

“Stay close,” Clinton ordered when the team was getting close to the target location. Kateri agreed automatically, though she privately wondered if her partner would be saying that if she hadn’t been a bit of an idiot the previous day.

_They’re trying to look out for you._

_And it would make sense anyway_.

The street where the son of one of the most dangerous gang bosses in Bronx lived was extremely normal. Normal looking house after normal looking house … _town house?_ … lined each side of the street with neatly-cut hedges and beds full of flowers.

Chantal Colter (the mother) was just stepping out of her yard, her young son Anthony (Jackson’s boy) at her side, as the team pulled onto the street. Considering the hour—nearing 8am—they were probably heading off to school. _I’m a terrible judge of age when I’m eyeballing it, but the kid can’t be more than what … six?_

Jess and Barnes were the first ones to exit their car and approach Ms. Colter, as Kateri and Clinton closed up from behind. Kateri could hear the beginning of the conversation, even before she got close.

“Ms. Colter, can we talk to you?” Barnes called out.

 _Here we go_.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Ms. Colter replied politely, seemingly unruffled by the sudden influx of people on the street. Her back was to the approaching SWAT van, also. “I need to get my son to school.”

Her lack of reaction itself made Kateri somewhat suspicious. _Trenton’s not that far from the city that she couldn’t know what was going on with Jackson and the Sixes._

_If Jackson was the father of my kid and a lot of people suddenly showed up right after my kid’s father did what Jackson did, I’d be a whole lot more worried than she looks._

_Unlessssss … she doesn’t know who Jackson really is?_

“We’ll see that he gets to school,” Barnes replied, showing her badge.

From a stone’s throw up the street, the SWAT van screeched to a halt, and SWAT officers began pouring out the back and heading towards the house.

“What is this? What’s going on?” Now Ms. Colter seemed a little freaked, and she clutched her son tightly to her.

“We’re looking for Tyrone Jackson,” the boss stated succinctly, taking off his sun-glasses.

Guns drawn, Clinton, Kenny, and Kateri approached the group at that point. Kateri had never seen Ms. Colter before in her life, as far as she could remember, but that did not necessarily mean that Ms. Colter did not know her or that there were no Sixes nearby watching her place. _Not that I can see anyone obvious._

In an abundance of caution, Kateri had taken a couple of steps to distance her appearance even further than usual from what it had been at the time of the Sixes’ hit. A pair of aviators hid her eyes from view, half-concealing her features as well. Her brownish-black hair, which had grown longer than usual— _time for a haircut_ —was pulled back in a tight-braid that hung just past her shoulders, and she had forgone her usual leather jacket— _not that I really need it in this weather_ —and her short-sleeved t-shirt exposed the deep rope-burn scars that encircled both wrists, the only remaining physical reminders of her kidnapping roughly two years earlier.

“I don’t know any Tyrone Jackson,” Ms. Colter snapped back immediately without a moment’s hesitation. _You’re either telling the truth, or you’re a very good liar._

“… Elementary identified him as the father of your son, Anthony,” Hana shot up, brandishing the tablet in her hands.

With the surrounding noise from the SWAT team and other arriving agents, Kateri missed the first few words of her statement. Clinton had specifically stopped where Ms. Colter— _oh, the irony, considering who comes to mind when you usually say Ms. Colter **[1]** in my hearing_—was not directly facing him or Kateri, who was standing half behind him where his greater bulk and presence would help keep the eyes off of her.

“Mommy?” The little boy questioned, his voice puzzled and frightened both. _Poor kid_.

“I know,” Ms. Colter replied, smoothing a hand over his hair, trying to soothe him, “We call our son by his middle name, Zach. Can he go over to the neighbor’s house? It’s two doors down.” She pointed back down the street.

_Definitely. Don’t want the kid here for a lot of reasons._

_Business like this is no place for a kid_.

Jess gave a small nod, catching the eye of an approaching female agent who had arrived with the backup.

“Zach, honey,” Ms. Colter knelt, putting herself and her little boy on the same level, “Go with these folks over to Willie’s house and play with him for a little while.”

Once Jackson’s son, a poor little kid … _we can’t pick our parents_ … was escorted away gently by two agents, Ms. Colter straightened, crossing her arms across her chest, her innocent, oblivious act fading away.

“I don’t know where Ty is,” she stated bluntly.

 _No beating around the bush. That’s a win_.

“I haven’t heard from him in five days,” she continued, “but I know he couldn’t do what they’re saying.”

Years of training and practice kept Kateri’s face perfectly blank, even though she was rolling her eyes and scoffing internally. _Uh, lady, you do know you hooked-up with one of the most notorious gang-bosses in New York City, don’t you?_

 _He might be trying to work on his goody two shoes reputation lately, but Jackson’s got so much blood on his hands, they drip. He’s a thug and a killer who’s been dealing drugs, running guns, and moving underage prostitutes for years_.

Just thinking about some of the things that she knew Jackson had done … even some things that Billy was thought to have done … _if I had real evidence, I’d have turned him in so fast his head would spin_ … gave her the creeps and made her stomach roll uneasily. There was a real dark side to working in the gang unit and doing undercover work. You not only saw the crime scene photos and the reports. Sometimes you had to see the crimes first hand and not be able to do a thing about lest you blow your cover, get yourself killed, and have absolutely no witness to do anything about the problem. _And that doesn’t even start on the reasons that some gang units have rotten apples. Come over to the dark side, we have money, sex, and power. All that’s required is no conscious._

“You do know he runs the Rolling Sixes?” Barnes asked dryly.

“He’s leaving that life!” Ms. Colter insisted.

_He what now???_

“That’s why he set us up here so he could do better by his son than his father did by him,” Ms. Colter continued.

Internally, Kateri was still spluttering in a mixture of shell-shocked confusion and utter disbelief. She had been doing this job a lot of years and knew a lot of people in the depths of the quagmire that was gang life and mob life. Someone at Jackson’s level did not just get out of the life.

 _Not alive anyway_.

Kenny had split off to check the house with the SWAT team, leaving Kateri and Clinton with the others, and now returned, miming cutting his throat with one hand. _House’s clear. No sign of Jackson. Bloody h**l. Didn’t think it would be that easy, but one can hope!_

 _Kenny, you definitely jinxed us_.

“Innocent or guilty,” Jess put in, “We still need to find him, or he needs to turn himself in. Where would he hide?”

 _Jackson turn himself in? That’ll be the day_.

_Go out in a blaze of glory if there’s no way of getting out alive and uncaptured, sure._

_Turning himself in … no chance in creation._

“I don’t know,” Ms. Colter shrugged and shook her head, and everything about her face and posture and tone bled sincerity, “I don’t know his friends from that life.”

 _Would make sense. Even if he weren’t leavin’, Jackson would have isolated her from that life lest they become a target, a weakness others could exploit against him_.

“How ‘bout girlfriends?” Barnes asked.

Now Ms. Colter seemed uncomfortable. Biting her lip, she glanced at Barnes and hesitated.

_Ooof, not surprised, but that’s still gotta sting._

_That’s the price you pay for hookin’ up with a creep like Jackson_.

“What’s her name?” Barnes pressed, a note of gentleness in her voice.

“She means _nothing_ to him,” Ms. Colter shot back, emphasizing the nothing part. _You’re trying too hard_. “He’s going to be with us.” Her words got faster as she continued. “If he were going on the run for good, he wouldn’t leave without Zach and me. Now I really need to get …” She took a step as if to go to her son, but Barnes stepped into her path.

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know!”

“If she means nothin’ to him, then she should mean nothing to you,” Barnes tried a new line of approach, “So why are you protecting her.”

“She’s a thug,” Ms. Colter replied, a note of fear entering her face, “Do you know what thugs do to snitches?”

_Is the girlfriend in the Sixes, too?_

_Worried Jackson can’t protect you?_

_Worried he wouldn’t choose you over the girlfriend?_

“You have my word, Ms. Colter,” Barnes answered, “She’ll never know where it came from.”

There was a long moment of silence. The two women starred at each other, and then Ms. Colter sighed, shoulders slumping as she looked away. “It’s Cleo Wilkins.” With that, she departed, leaving the agents alone.

Jess turned to Kateri, who stepped out from behind her partner’s sheltering bulk, “Cleo Wilkins, you know her?”

 _That’s what I’ve been asking myself since that name came out of her mouth_.

A frown crossed Kateri’s face, and she pinched her eyes shut in concentration, the fingers of her left-hand drumming on her chin.

_Cleo Wilkins._

_Cleo Wilkins._

_Cleo Wilkins_.

“I don’t think so,” Kateri shook her head, “At least, it doesn’t ring a bell, but of all the gangs in the city, I probably know the least about the Sixes.”

* * *

Finding Cleo Wilkins … at least a lead on Cleo Wilkins … proved a lot easier than finding Ms. Colter and Zach Jackson had been. By the time the team had returned to New York City, Hana had an address for Wilkins’ former guardian, her grandmother Aurelia Williams. There was a quick stop at the bus long enough for Kateri to switch cars and join Jess and Barnes.

 _Not that we’re attached at the hip or something, but I hope this doesn’t jinx us like before_.

“What’s the address?” Kateri asked once they were back on the road, familiar scenery flying by outside the window.

Barnes, who was not driving, rattled off the address quickly, and Kateri plugged it into the mental map that she had of the Bronx. The mental map was overlaid with highlighted regions of where the different Bronx street-gangs operated, and she knew within a general area where most major neighborhoods and streets were. The map came in handy for helping prevent her from stumbling into unexpected, unpleasant situations in enemy territory.

“That a problem?” The boss asked.

 _Thankfully not_.

Kateri shook her head automatically, remembered she was in the backseat _and Jess probably can’t see you in the rear view mirror_ , and then answered, “No, if I remembering correctly where that address is, it’s in formerly disputed territory between the Sixes and the Crew, actually, but it’s been Crew territory for a while, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Mrs. Williams’ house was a nice-old place on an old street in an older neighborhood of the Bronx. The lady herself seemed entirely unsurprised to have law enforcement showing up at her door asking about Cleo— _which is sad and very concerning all in one_ —and was happy to talk. After only a few minutes, she excused herself from the room and disappeared off a set of creaky steps to retrieve what belongings Cleo had left behind. _Jess can do his thing with ‘em_.

Mrs. Williams returned within a very few minutes, carrying a small cardboard box, and picked up the thread of the conversation from where she had left off, “I did my best for Cleo, but once she met Ty, there was no bringing her back.”

_Sounds about right sadly. Gang life’s like drugs, it’s a quagmire. Once you’re in, it’s hard to get back out._

The box was set down on the dining room table, and the three agents followed her over.

“In high school, they got together,” Mrs. Williams continued, “Still together from what I here.”

“Would she hide him, if she could?” Barnes asked.

Kateri took up a position in the doorway between the living room and the dining room and let the others keep the conversation going. She let her gaze drift around the room, occasionally flicking over her teammates and Mrs. Williams, as she listened and made mental notes.

“Oh, you bet she would,” Mrs. Williams replied with a sigh, hands on her hips, “I don’t know where.” She pointed at the box and took a seat at the table, “That’s what Cleo left behind. I don’t know why I kept it all. Not like she’s ever comin’ back.”

_Good, hard workin’ guardian. Tried your best to keep your kid out of that life, and yet they go down the rabbit hole anyway._

_Not a rabbit hole you’re climbin’ back out of._

_Can’t imagine what that’s like._

_Saw it happened to Billy and the others a little bit, but not like this, not like it must be for her_.

“Thank you.” The boss carefully opened the cardboard box and started looking through the contents.

“How’d you find me anyway?” Mrs. Williams asked curiously.

“Old police report on Cleo,” Barnes replied, “She mouthed off to a cop, and you were listed as her guardian.”

“That girl’s gotta mouth!”

After rummaging through the box of Cleo’s abandoned belongings for a minute, Jess finally pulled out a child’s drawing. “Did she draw this?” He turned the drawing around and extended it to Mrs. Williams. It was a typical street scene with buildings and lots of little kids except for one major detail: one of the kids was much, much larger than the rest.

_Okay, that’s different._

“When she was eight,” Mrs. William answered, a new note of grief entering her voice, “Broke my heart when she showed it to me. She said if she was big, people couldn’t hurt her.”

_Poor kid._

“You raised her?” Jess asked.

Mrs. Williams nodded, “My worthless son and his worthless wife, they couldn’t. I mean the fights, the drugs, the booze. They were in an out of jail. No place for a child.”

_No, it bloody isn’t._

_Reminds me of what happened with Tyson and her kids, that case back in August._

_We’d be a whole lot better off if parents remembered that their actions have a whale of a lot of impact on their kids, not just them._

_The whole world would be a lot better off if everyone remembered that their actions don’t just affect them. We don’t live and act in a vacuum._

Jess pulled two thick books out of the box. _Julius Caesar: A Life_ , the title on the spine of the top book read. _Interesting reading for a poor kid from the Bronx. Not what I would expect_.

“Julius Caesar, Theodore Roosevelt, Joan of Arc,” Jess read off the titles.

“She was always readin’,” Mrs. Williams noted sadly, “She said that they were people like her.”

_People like her? A Roman general and dictator, an American president and Rough Rider, and a French peasant, warrior woman, and now saint._

_What’s the connection to Cleo Wilkins???_

Kateri shifted positions when her arm started going to sleep, having had it pressed against the wall to long, and stuffed her hands into her pockets. Barnes glanced over at her quickly and then returned her attention to the scene in front of them.

The boss had found a sheet of notebook paper in the box and was unfolding it. He studied it for a moment and then said, “This is dated five years ago. The Nine Bridges. Does that mean anything to you?”

_What is the “this” that you are referring to?_

Kateri could see the outline of words on the back of the paper, but they were too faint to read, and _I can’t read backwards anyway_.

Mrs. Williams shook her head, “No.”

“Up here where they can’t look down on us,” Jess began to read, “Standing with the water under us. See all, be all, right here from on top. Up here, you and me can make it all stop. From here we can see the Nines, maybe they’re yours and maybe they’re mine.”

“A rap about where they can see the Nine Bridges of the city?” Barnes asked, stepping forward, stuffing one hand into her pocket.

 _Ah, it’s rap. I thought it was just bad poetry_.

“Cleo wrote this while she was in high school,” Jess replied stepping out of the dining room, and Kateri and Barnes turned to follow him, “Probably around here somewhere. Maybe on top of a building. Maybe somewhere her and Ty used to go to get away from everything.”

* * *

Hurry up and wait was a frequent occurrence in the team’s cases. Leads did not come boom, boom, boom so that the team could move from one to the next and quickly catch the bad guy. Life was not a TV show. Often times, like today, the team would get a lead and take a step forward in the hunt, but then they had to stop and wait and wait and wait (sometimes for hours) while more searching was done so that they could get to the next lead.

Over a coffee-break and an early lunch, the team started hunting down places in the vicinity of Mrs. Williams’ house that could match the description in Cleo’s rap piece. By early afternoon, they had narrowed it down to one more likely target and a couple other possibilities.

The most-likely target building was an old brick-building, many stories high and topped by a water tower, on the edge of the Bronx with a prime view of the river and at least some of the bridges. Whether all nine bridges could be seen was hard to judge simply from aerial photographs.

 _Google Maps was a wonderful invention_.

The old building was dark and dank, filled with piles of old junk, its walls covered by graffiti. The whole building looked and smelled like it had been long abandoned and had been used by squatters and maybe as a drug den in the meantime. Clearing all four floors took time, but the team worked steadily upwards toward the roof, Jess, Barnes, and Hana getting somewhat ahead of the others. Every noise, every footfall, every whispered word echoed oddly and creepily, and Kateri sometimes thought that she could hear the chittering and rustlings of rats amongst the old junk.

_Ugh. Double ugh._

_Bugs, I can handle. Most snakes, I can handle._

_But mice/rats … shudder_.

Finally, all the floors were cleared, and Kateri, a couple steps behind her partner, stepped out onto the rooftop back into the sunlight, squinting at the sudden change in light from the dark interior to bright sunlight.

“There’s nowhere to hide up here,” Barnes shouted, holstering her weapon.

“Building’s clear,” Kenny called the update, as he and Clinton and Kateri were the last out.

From the top of the building there was a great view of the city and the river. In the clear afternoon air, one could see for miles and miles, and multiple of the bridges were visible

_But can we see all nine?_

“Tallest building in the neighborhood, check. Nice view, check,” Hana listed off the main two requirements for a building that matched the one discussed in Cleo’s poem/rap thing.

Everyone scattered across the rooftop, looking around and out. Kateri drifted along at her partner’s side, her head on a swivel, walking with him out of sheer habit more than anything else.

“Can’t see but four bridges,” Clinton noted after a minute, seconds before Kateri had finished the count herself.

“True, but we’re not on top,” Kateri added, “not on the top-top.” She sometimes had a habit of repeating words for emphasis. She looked up at the water tower, which towered over both the roof and the neighborhood below.

 _That’s the top_.

Clinton followed her gaze up, and a moment later Jess, too, got the idea. He unfolded the sheet with the poem on it. “The lyrics say, ‘standing with the water under us.’” Returning the sheet to his jacket pocket, Jess started to climb up the rusty old ladder that led to the top of the water tower.

_That’s a long way up and a long way down. I hope that thing’s a little more stable than it looks._

_I’m not afraid of heights, but ugh, no, I wouldn’t want to climb up there_.

Jess reached the top of the water tower without accident and then mostly disappeared from view as he stepped away from the edge below which the others were standing. Kateri shaded her eyes with one hand and took a couple of steps back, trying to keep him in view.

“All nine,” Jess shouted down.

From where she was standing Kateri could see Jess moving around, looking around like all was normal, but then suddenly his head snapped down, and Kateri immediately tensed at his sudden movement, one hand going back to her holstered Glock.

_What in all the bloody blue blazes drew his attention like that up there of all places?_

Kateri’s sudden flash of movement, especially the hand going to her gun, drew the immediate attention of her teammates, who also tensed.

“Jess?” Barnes shouted a query up, “What’s going on?”

“Rats,” the boss shouted back.

_Rats??????_

Kateri and the others exchanged puzzled glances, wondering what rats had to do with anything and why they could have caused Jess’ sudden actions and his own movement for his gun. Whatever the cause, there was nothing they could do on the ground and little room for another person up top, so … _we wait_.

There was a flash of movement and a crash of metal. _What the h**l is going on??_ Suddenly, Jess returned to the edge of the water tower and looked down at them.

“Call ERT,” he shouted, “We just found Jackson.”

_Found Jackson??_

_In the water tower?_

_I don’t get it._

Eyes wide in surprise, Barnes stepped away to place the call.

A moment later, a eureka-moment look crossed Kenny’s face, “Well, that would explain the rats.”

 _Oh …._ Now Kateri got it. _You’re slow on the draw today. Rats in the water tower, a lack of further reaction from Jess … Jackson’s dead._

* * *

ERT arrived quickly, and Jackson’s body was laboriously removed from the depths of the water tower and down the ladder with much huffing, puffing, and swearing involved. The body already smelled of decay, and some appendages as well as his face bore the marks of his rat companions. _Bloody, bloody h**l._ Kateri pressed one hand to her face and stepped well-away before her stomach could do more than roll.

One of the ERT techs checked the body’s fingerprints in the database and confirmed that the body was one Tyrone Dereck Jackson. It was confirmation of what Kateri already knew for sure. _Recognize that face anywhere in this city_.

“As he lived and breathed,” Hana said dryly.

“Two shots to the chest, point-blank range,” the ME succinctly stated the cause of death. The huge blood stain on the front of Jackson’s shirt was clear evidence of the manner of his demise. “Maybe four or five days ago.”

Kateri’s eyes went wide. _Well, that just blew this whole case out of the water._ If Jackson had been dead for at least four days, there was no way in creation that he could have done that massacre. _This is not a zombie movie._

 _Bloody h**l. This case just got even more interesting_.

“Then he wasn’t gunning anyone down two days ago, was he?” Kenny asked rhetorically going straight to the heart of the problem.

_Kenny, you really, really, really did jinx us._

“Only one person could have enticed him up there. The same person who killed those five bangers,” Jess stated as the body was sealed into the body bag.

“Hello, Cleo Wilkins,” Barnes’ voice was as dry as desert sand.

The body was wheeled away, and Kenny left with them to help get the heavy stretcher down the stairs to the ground. The building had an elevator, but since the building had no power, the elevator was useless. _Which means brute force is necessary to get the sheer dead weight of a body and stretcher downstairs._

Jess pulled out his cell-phone and stepped away to make a call. Kateri turned away, continuing to breath shallowly through her noise. The low breeze that had been a constant all day picked up for a few seconds bringing some fresh air across the roof-top. _Thank heavens_.

“You okay?” A hand touched her shoulder.

Kateri turned towards her partner and nodded, “That was kinda ripe.” She grimaced and fanned one hand in front of her face, “and the chew marks … ugh.”

Clinton squeezed her shoulder gently, making a face of agreement, but before he could say anything more, it was time to go.

The team returned to HQ so that the boss could update the higher-ups in person. It did not take much to get the appropriate balls rolling, and by dinner time the announcement of Cleo Wilkins’ addition to the Most Wanted List was being broadcast.

 _Now the hunt really begins_.

* * *

[1] As a fan of fantasy literature, Kateri’s mind automatically goes to Marissa Coulter in the _His Dark Materials_ trilogy by Philip Pullman.


	3. Tuesday, October 15: Day 3

One of the few nice things about having a hunt within the limits of New York City was that _sometimes_ they actually got to sleep in their own beds some nights IF— _and it’s a very big if_ —time allowed. After working well into the night, Jess had released the whole team to get a few hours of sleep with orders to reform at the bus bright and early the next morning.

Reasonably awake and with coffee in hand, Kateri arrived at the bus just before 7:30am, slowed down by Bronx traffic. Clinton pulled into the parking lot just as she was getting out of her truck, and she perched on the hood to wait for him to catch up. Her partner emerged from his car with a certain look on his face that usually meant he had seen someone doing something inane and had a story to tell, and a story he did have to tell as they went inside about an idiot who had been driving like he was trying to imitate their evasive driving maneuvers from Quantico.

“Fun, fun,” Kateri drawled as they got to the bus door. Clinton got the door for her, and she walked backwards inside— _I’ve learned how far I can go before I risk running into someone or tripping over my own feet_ —so she could keep talking at the same time, “Please tell me there was a cop there to deal with that bloody idiot.”

Clinton opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, there was a, exclamation of surprise in a male voice that was not immediately familiar, which was followed by a string of curses and the sound of someone moving abruptly. Clinton’s eyes went wide in alarm, not the “you’re about to run into someone, so watch where you’re going, kid!” kind of alarm, but the “there’s real danger” kind of alarm.

And Kateri’s back was to the danger.

 _Oh, bloody h**l_.

There were exclamations from Hana and Kenny, but before Kateri could turn or move to see what the h**l was going on, Clinton had a hold of her arm in a tight grip, and she was half-jerked, half-pushed off to the right, giving her partner time to step forward between her and whatever danger he had seen.

_What in all the bloody blue blazes is happening?_

_This is the bus for heaven’s sake._

Finally, Kateri was facing the right way, facing the scene head on. Hana was at her shoulder, and Kateri herself was half-behind her partner just on one side of the main entranceway. In the front half of the bus, Kenny and a cop—the promised liaison with the NYPD gang unit—had been sitting. Both were standing now. Kenny had one hand on his gun and a look of blooming anger on his face, directed at the cop whose face she knew only too well, whose hand was also under his jacket.

_Officer Cortez, bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody h**l._

_Detective now, I guess._

_Never thought or hoped to see you ever again._

_Bloody, bloody h**l._

“Moreno,” the cop growled, “What the h**l are you doing here?”

The others were all talking at the same time, voice overlapping voice in a near impenetrable cacophony of noise. Kateri knew she should be doing something, saying something to help quiet the confrontation that was all centered around her, to help calm her teammates who had reacted so strongly in her defense.

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t.

Kateri was frozen in place, her heart in her throat, eyes wide in a mixture of sheer shock and fear. As soon as she recognized Cortez, her belly had instantly tied itself up into knots, and her feet felt like lead weights fixed to the floor.

_Bloody, bloody h**l._

_This case can get utterly worse._

_And I thought seeing Thomas again would have been bad enough._

That name, that voice, that man, all were reminders of an incident years ago that Kateri would have much preferred to leave behind her …

_Cages, wire cages, so many crammed into a warehouse-like structure_

_Cold, so cold._

_Why can’t they give us real blankets?_

_The children keep crying._

_It’s so small in here._

_Are the walls closing in?_

_Shut up, brain. Shut up. Bloody shut up._

_Not the time._

_Not the time._

_Bloody well not the time._

_Not ever the time for that._

And of a case that Kateri preferred to not think about for a lot of reasons … not least of all that it had spawned her record for most panic attacks in a 24-hour period.

_Why did it have to be him?_

_When did he make detective?_

_Why him of all people as our liaison?_

_Why him?_

_Why him?_

_Bloody h**l, why him?_

_Here and now, Kateri. Here and now._

_Breathe. Mind on the here and now._

Alejandra Moreno had caused problems for Kateri before but not in over two years. Moreno was not another person, someone Cortez had mistaken her for, but Kateri herself in a different guise. Moreno was an alias, a very basic cover for an old case from 2013 used to facilitate a meeting with some of Billy’s acquittances. In a case of wrong-place, wrong-time she had been arrested for possession but was never charged, but Alejandra’s picture had ended up in the system, which had helped lead to Kateri’s second arrest by the NYPD in 2017, an arrest that had been due to racial profiling more than anything else.

Kateri had given her teammates the overview of the 2013 incident when they arrived to bail her out of her pickle in 2017, but … _there were a few details I neglected to tell them_ _…_

_And more than a few have to do with you, Cortez._

_Bloody h**l, why’d it have to be you?_

_I see your nose healed straight_.

_Bloody h**l, why’d it have to be you?_

_So many kids_

_What’d they all do?_

_Why are there here?_

_So cold_

_Kids sleeping on the floor_

Kateri shivered, half unintentionally and half intentionally, trying to physically shake herself from the memories. _Here and now. Here and now. Here and now._

_Don’t go down that rabbit-trail._

_Here and now._

Her teammates were still almost talking over each other, and Cortez’s face had gone almost puce. What they were saying Kateri could not catch past the pounding of her heart, the roaring in her ears, and the stuck loop-di-loops of her thoughts.

 _You’re on the edge of a panic attack_ , the more-composed side of her stated.

 _Not here, not here, not here, not again,_ the less-composed side of her replied.

_You got fat, Cortez, and your hair looks as ridiculous as ever._

Kateri forced herself to try to slow her breathing, to try to focus on anything but what was going on around her, to try to ground herself and remind herself that she was not in a room or a cage that was about to close in on her, that she was not back in those cells like after her arrest, that she was not in the cages that followed the cells after her arrest.

_You’re safe. You’re safe._

_You’re in the bus. The bus is plenty big._

_You’re okay._

_I hate it when my claustrophobia and PTSS conspire against me_ went the most-composed side of her.

Slowly Cortez was returning to a normal human skin tone, and Kenny’s defensive posture was starting to relax. Considering that the detective had called her by her old alias, he somehow remembered her— _maybe ‘cause I broke his nose_ —and then must have gone … _ballistic?_ … not realizing that Kateri was actually FBI. Finally, Cortez returned to his seat with a dark look at Kateri, a dark look that was returned in equal measure by Kenny, and then Clinton finally slowly relaxed.

_Why’d it have to be you?_

Kateri, however, did not. Her heart was still pounding in her throat, her blood roaring in her ears, despite her attempts to calm herself down.

 _I wish I could have just stayed in bed_.

Hana pulled closed the movable partition that could separate the two halves of the bus, blocking off Cortez from Kateri’s sight and her from his sight. Jaw clenched but eyes concerned, Clinton turned, reaching a hand out to his partner, who was still frozen in place behind him, almost shaking all over.

_Can this day be over now?_

Kateri allowed herself to be guided towards a seat, but instead of her usual seat on Clinton’s left, she took the one he usually sat in. Opposing elbows were the last thing on her mind at the moment. Someone else between her and the detective was a much higher priority.

Kateri collapsed into the seat and buried her face in her hands. _Bloody, bloody, bloody h**l_. She suddenly realized that her travel mug of coffee was no longer in her hand. _I hope I didn’t drop it_. There was a hand on her shoulder, gentle pressure, and Clinton was saying something, but … _not to me, not right now, I don’t think_.

_Deep breaths. Deep breaths._

_You are safe. You are okay._

_The walls are not about to close in on you._

_You are not in a cell. You are not in a cage._

A hand touched her knee, and finally Kateri flinched and then looked up. Clinton had shifted position without her realizing it and had crouched in front of her.

“What do you need, kid?” He asked.

_Where do I even start?_

Kateri gave a helpless shrug, afraid that her voice would break if she tried to speak too quickly.

“Just keep breathing. You’re okay,” Clinton’s voice was gentle, and the pressure of his hand on her knee was just firm enough to help ground her … a little.

_I’m glad the others aren’t here yet._

_Less witnesses for my freak-out._

_But why did Cortez have to be our liaison?_

_Why him?_

_Why him?_

_Don’t start spiraling again. Here and now. He can’t hurt you._

_This mission is definitely jinxed_.

Hana was saying something, asking what she could do to help, an uncharacteristically unsure expression on her face.

“I’ll be alright,” Kateri was proud that her voice was almost level, “I just need a minute.”

Calloused fingers shifted to her wrist, checking her pulse. The roaring in her ears was slowly fading, the pounding of her heart slowing. The panic attack was slowly calming. Slowly.

 _Finally_.

“Go back to work, Hana. I’ve got her.”

Hana patted Kateri’s shoulder gently, clearly telegraphing the move first, and then with one last troubled look returned to her seat and her laptop.

_I hate this._

_I hate being the fragile one_.

Horrifically slowly the shakes in her hands and the almost full-body trembling slowly ceased, and the pins and needles feeling across her limbs slowly faded, too. Clinton seemed to be able to read in her face that her panic attack was easing and finally straightened from his crouch and returned to his seat, though he remained within arm’s length.

Kateri slowly straightened and sat back in her chair, keeping her arms wrapped around herself protectively. The weather outside was warm enough that she was wearing short sleeves, but now she felt cold.

“Could you get me my jacket, please?” Kateri asked quietly, gesturing with her chin in the direction of her duffle tucked away in a corner.

 _Glad I left it here last night_.

“I’ve got it,” Hana, who was a little closer, called, bouncing up from her seat. There was the sound of a zipper, and then she returned a moment later carrying Kateri’s fleece jacket.

 _Ah, she remembered._ Though technically her leather jacket and her fleece jacket were both jackets, Kateri usually referred to the former as her coat and the latter as her jacket when talking to the others.

With a grateful smile and a soft word of thanks, Kateri took her coat and wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl.

“What do you need?” Clinton asked again, his voice gentle.

“Keep Cortez well away from me?”

_Please._

_I feel safer around Billy than him._

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Hana interjected dryly from her seat behind them.

 _Definitely something I missed while I was freaking out_.

Kateri glanced across to her partner, a question in her eyes. Clinton was usually the one who usually helped calm her down and then filled her in on whatever she missed while she was freaking out.

“First of all, he’d be going through me first,” Clinton replied firmly— _don’t doubt that for an instant_ —“And second, we might be bailing Crosby out of jail if Cortez even looks at you funny.”

The resulting small smile from Kateri wasn’t actually forced. “Niá:wen.”[1]

“From what he called you, I am assuming you know each other from your undercover days?”

Kateri nodded, “Same alias from my arrest two years ago.”

Clinton scowled, “I remember.”

 _Less fondly than I do._ The horrificness of the day had faded with time, leaving behind the nicer memory of her partner going all lawyerly on the hapless idiots of that precinct. Her arrest had gotten a number of people in that precinct in very hot water. Mitchell, the actual arresting officer who had been the one guilty of police brutality, had ended up losing his job, and his partner— _whose name somehow escapes me right now_ —had ended up on probation for a while with a black mark on his permanent record.

“I don’t need to know right now what exactly happened between you and Cortez years ago that caused all this,” Clinton continued a moment later, voice firm but gentle, too, “but I just have one question for now: is there anything we need to know for this case?”

_What to say without revealing the whole morass here?_

Kateri hesitated a minute, thinking, before finally replying quietly, eyes flicking warily up to the door. She started to reply in English, cut herself off, and switched into Mohawk. _Voices drift, even with that divider_.

“He’s a lawsuit in waiting. There’s at least one reason his case closure rate is so high."

_Danny Reagan, wannabe._

_Cortez’ll do whatever it takes, and I mean whatever._

_I can almost see the thoughts whirring through your head, partner._

_You’re the lawyer. Please don’t make me spell it out, not right now_.

“Just if you’re in the field, watch yourself and watch him and keep an eye on who you’re apprehending.”

Clinton’s face darkened, but he nodded, squeezing her shoulder gently. The divider suddenly opened, and Kateri flinched, her head jerking up, but it was only Kenny slipping out.

“You okay, Kat?” He asked.

Kateri gave a half-nod, half-shrug, “Getting there.” She glanced down at her watch to see and was shocked to see only about half-an-hour had passed since she and Clinton had arrived at the bus and this whole sad, sorry saga had started.

_Would have thought it was a whole bloody lot longer._

“Good,” Kenny replied. He jerked a thumb back behind him, a dark look on his face, “He won’t be bothering you anymore, so don’t worry if he appears.”

Kateri gave a half-smile, “Thanks.”

Kenny disappeared back behind the divider, and Kateri swiveled back towards her desk and her laptop, scrubbing her hands across her face and then through her hair.

_I must look like a sight._

“I need to get to work,” she reached to boot up her computer, but Clinton caught her hand.

“No,” He gently disagreed, “You need to sit and breathe for a few minutes while you drink your coffee. Work can wait.”

“But….”

Clinton raised an eyebrow.

_I know that look._

“Okay, okay.” With a rueful smile, Kateri leaned back in her chair, forced tense muscles to start relaxing, and grabbed her coffee mug, which Hana must have taken from her hand earlier and set at her desk.

* * *

By the time Barnes and Jess arrived just before 9am, the divider had been reopened, the simmering tension in the bus had eased, and Kateri, after the first shock of seeing him, had stopped wanting to flinch every time Cortez moved from his chair, but half of that was because Clinton was between the two of them and Kenny growled anytime Cortez even looked in Kateri’s direction. If the two of them had been the only ones in the bus, _the situation would have been bloody different_.

The situation was still tense, however. _The boss and XO know somethin’s up_. Nobody was going to explain things, however, while Cortez was present. _But over what and between whom wouldn’t be clear without seeing … what happened earlier._

The search for Wilkins was ongoing and was progressing slowly but surely. Everything that the NYPD had on her— _very little_ —was being examined and reexamined by the team and largely by Kateri. The Sixes in custody were being grilled. Buildings were being searched. Communications and online presences were being hunted down and examined for leads.

Kateri’s work was more tailored to her skill-set. Aside from the other work, Jess had asked her to talk to her contacts and anyone who knew anyone else in Sixes territory, trying to ferret out any clues there.

“Hey, Barnes,” midway through the afternoon Jess’ voice broke the silence that had settled over the bus for over an hour, “This arrest report on Cleo for assault two years ago, they must have had a rookie write up the DD file. Can you make some sense of it for me?”

Kateri glanced up quickly, the voices drawing her attention. The team was in the middle of a very late lunch, and Barnes still had a plate of pizza in one hand, but she took the file and nodded, returning to her seat.

“Sooo you’re Barnes,” Cortez stated, a note of interest in his voice.

_How about you keep your trap shut?_

Kateri resolutely turned away back towards her work and tried to tune out the voices. That didn’t work too well. _Called fight-or-flight instincts. Cortez’s a threat, and you don’t tune out threats._ Her plate of half-eaten pizza sat beside her computer. She wasn’t feeling very hungry.

“You worked vice out of the 47, Gunhill and Pellam, right?” Cortez continued.

_And why do you care?_

“That’s right, and you?” Barnes’ voice was polite but disinterested.

_Listening to conversations but not seeing them is interesting. You pick up on other things._

“I was in the 49 to 52. Bounced around.”

_With your record and reputation, why am I not surprised?_

“Wouldn’t give it up for nothin,’” Cortez just kept on talking, “Not like you.” He chuckled.

 _Oh, shut up, Cortez_.

Kateri looked up again and pushed her chair back just enough so that she could see Kenny, whose back was mostly to her. _Don’t do anything stupid, Kenny._ His head had come up from his stack of papers, and there was a familiar set to his shoulders. He was still on edge after the confrontation earlier, and the cutting snark against Barnes was not going to do anything to quiet his big-brotherish protective instincts.

“Like me what?” Barnes’ voice was still cool and unruffled.

“Couldn’t handle the hussle, huh?” Cortez asked. _Oh, shut your trap_. “Had to get one of these cushy federal jobs?”

_We’re not sitting in the nice air-conditioned HQ, moron, running our case from the computers with Valentine’s team._ _We're out in the field. The six of us, we basically live and work out of a mobile home.  
_

_You get to go home to your family once your shift is done. We’re out in the field for at least a week at a time, most cases, sometimes more._

_You wouldn’t imagine how much she and Jess have missed in their kids’ lives ‘cause of this ‘cushy’ job._

_Moron._

“Yea, it’s great,” now Barnes’ voice was finally starting to drip with sarcasm, “Straight 9 to 5, bad guys who roll over like puppies. It’s just cocktails and bom-boms all day, every day.”

There was the sound of a chair, and Kenny was up out of his seat. _Bloody h**l, he’s finally had enough_. Kateri shot a worried glance at her partner, who had also looked up from his work, and she scooted back a little further so that, now Kenny had moved, she could still see around her partner, who had kept himself between her and Cortez all day, and see what was about to happen.

Kenny leaned menacingly over Cortez, “Hey, want to wind someone up?”

 _You should have learned your lesson earlier_.

Clinton shot up out of his seat, ready to intervene.

“Or you want to help do your job for you?

Cortez had risen, too, and Barnes shot out of her seat as soon as she saw things starting to go south.

“Hey, hey,” said Barnes, “We’re just ragging each other up. It’s nothin’. Lightin’ up.”

 _Cortez is almost the same height as Kenny, but Kenny’s bigger. Cortez got fat_.

Kenny was glowering at the NYPD detective and for a second acted like he hadn’t heard or absorbed Barnes’ words. _She doesn’t get what’s going on, why Kenny reacted like that_.

“What are you doin’?” Barnes asked, half-interposing herself between the two men. She gave Kenny a slight push back.

 _He’s takin’ care of a moron and watching your back, Barnes_.

_You didn’t see what happened earlier._

Clinton, who had slowly sat back down, took that as a prime opening for an update that also served as a distraction. “Hey, listen up. We’ve got something here.”

Kateri scooted back in to her desk and peered over her partner’s shoulder to look at what he had found, resolutely not looking at Jess who was on her other side … in case he might read something in her face she really didn’t want him to read at the moment. _Why am I sensing there are going to be questions to one or more of us later about why Cortez is prime target #1?_

The others gathered around to hear the update.

“Three Rolling Sixes just got bailed out for ten grand each, cash money,” Clinton finished.

_Bloody h**l. That’s a lot of cash._

Kateri glanced back toward the other side of the bus for a split second. _Good, Cortez’s staying in his corner_. Though from where she was sitting, four of her teammates had ended up between Kateri and Cortez.

“Cleo’s keeping the money rolling,” Barnes noted.

_The Sixes are still rolling even with the upheaval at the top._

“Who’s the bondsman?” Jess asked.

“Jimmy’s Superior Bail Bonds on Sheridan,” Clinton replied, “Told the clerk at the prison that he’d be back later to spring more Rolling Sixes and also told her not to bury them.”

 _Interesting_.

* * *

Work was wrapped up at the bus, and preparations were made to stake out the bail bonds office. If the bondsman was going to return with more money to spring for Sixes, someone was going to have to bring him that money first, and that someone would hopefully lead the team to Cleo.

Jess had asked Kateri if she thought it was safe for her to come along. Her answer was “H**l, yes” for a lot of reasons. First of all, Jackson’s untimely demise and the shake-up of the Sixes that would cause, as well as the fact that it was currently night would go a long way to keeping her identity concealed EVEN IF they ran in someone who might know her. _And that’s a big if_. And second, Cortez was staying at the bus, and there was no way in all creation she was staying by herself at the bus if Cortez was the only one there.

_Not that Clinton or Kenny would stand for it anyway._

Kateri ended up in the same car with Clinton, Jess, and Barnes, and the conversation meandered through the rest of the afternoon, over dinner, and into the early evening. _Sometimes our rabbit trails make for the most interesting conversations_. Eventually the conversation turned to Tali, and a question the kid had asked a few days earlier (before the case) about why her mother had gone overseas to such dangerous places if she ( _being Angelyne_ ) really loved her ( _being Tali herself_ ) so much.

 _Ugh. Not something I’d want to have to explain to a kiddo_.

“How do you answer a question like that?” Jess mused, starring out the passenger side window at the street.

_Good question!!!!_

“How would your wife have answered it?” Was Barnes’ simple reply.

“Angelyne would have found the words. She always did, but me?” Jess answered, before turning to look over at his shoulder at Clinton in the back seat, “How do you explain duty to an 11-year old?”

_Uh, also a good question._

_Thankfully, not it._

“Yeaa, that’s a hard one,” Clinton replied dryly.

That line of conversation was brought to an untimely halt when movement started to occur in the storefront. It was getting late, and Jimmy Savalas, the bondsman, finally appeared.

“He’s movin’,” Barnes called the update.

Six pairs of eyes were fixed on Jimmy and his every move. The street the shop was on was on the darker side but had enough people to limit the team’s sightlines of Jimmy at some points. Yet, nobody missed the figure in a hoody who slipped up to join Jimmy and the handover that occurred.

_Here we go._

“Follow the grey hoodie,” Jess instructed, swiveling to look at Kateri and Clinton, “Keep eyes on him.”

The two partners nodded and slipped out of the SUV. Side-by-side, the two bolted across traffic and jogged enough to close the distance somewhat between themselves and Grey Hoodie. _The trick is close enough to keep eyes on him but not so close that he gets the willies._ Grey Hoodie turned the corner off of Sheridan and disappeared down the steps into the Whitlock Avenue Station. _Grrrreeeeaaaattttt, this’ll be fun._ Tailing someone across the subway system added an extra layer of complexity.

At 8pm there were enough people in the station to allow Kateri and Clinton to blend in and not draw too much attention. _Thankfully_. A train had just left the station so there was a few minutes’ wait for the next to come, and the two spent the time getting close enough that they could either be on the same train car as Grey Hoodie or on the next car down.

 _Gotta be close enough to watch him, see if he meets anyone, and follow him when he gets off_.

At the same time, Kateri and Clinton could not get so close that they spooked him. The Rolling Sixes did not live under a rock. They would have known the huge manhunt that they were facing, and if they had any brains, they would be watching their sixes more closely.

 _One way of trying to pass under the radar while acting a cover and tailing a suspect is acting like a couple_. Kenny and Hana did it periodically, and Kateri and Kenny had even done it a handful of times, though they didn’t like doing it. _But with Clinton … ugh, no._ Acting that out had never worked at all between the two to Kateri’s great thankfulness, considering he was about as close as she had to a father/father-figure these days, and acting like a couple with him … _is just gross_. Considering that Kateri tended to look older than low-30s, it was simpler and less ick-worthy just to act like siblings or close friends and let people make what assumptions they would.

One ten-minute train ride later, Grey Hoodie got off at the Third Avenue–138th Street Station at the south end of the Bronx, and Kateri and Clinton tailed him— _I’m assuming he’s a him from that build_ —down a residential street.

Grey Hoodie had shown no signs of unease so far, no signs of recognition that he was being tailed, but at the exact wrong moment one of the team’s SUVs pulled onto the street and stopped along the curb half-way up the street.

Grey Hoodie slowed unexpectedly, forcing Kateri and Clinton to halt, too. The courier looked left, vaguely in the direction of the car, and then right up at a house, where several rough looking dudes were hanging out on a porch.

A cellphone appeared in his hand.

Kateri swore under her breath, so low that only her partner could catch her words, “We’ve been made.”

_Bloody h**l!_

Jess’ words over the comms a split second later only confirmed that, “Forget it. The house!”

 _Here we go_.

Clinton and Kateri bolted forwards, and the rest of the team was pouring from the two SUVs and hurrying to join them. The thugs on the porch split, some bolting into the yard and some into the house. Clinton who was a few steps ahead of Kateri— _a pox on shorter legs_ —headed inside, and Kateri followed. Shouts of “Stop”, “FBI”, “Hand’s up” echoed through the old house.

One particularly lanky thug tried bolting upstairs, a tactic that Kateri could never wrap her head around since … _less escape routes, doofus_. After one more bellowed “FBI, I said stop” from Clinton, the rabbit stopped his flight at the top of the staircase and raised his hands into the air.

“I’ve got him,” Clinton called to his partner, “Check the rest.” He pressed Jackrabbit towards the wall, leaving space for Kateri and Barnes, who had followed them up the stairs, to move around him and clear the far end of the floor.

The upstairs was small, and with Jess’ help, it took less than a minute to clear the handful of open rooms. There was only one room with its door shut, but Kateri, Clinton, and Jackrabbit had to move before there was room to clear it. The two marched Jackrabbit downstairs to join the other detainees, leaving Barnes and Jess plenty of room to clear the final room. The sound of that door being breached was loud, and Kateri instinctively flinched at the noise as her feet took the last step off the stairs back onto the first floor.

“Suspect’s MIA,” Jess’ call came over the comms within ten seconds, “Start takin’ names.”

 _Bloody h**l_.

All the suspects had been corralled into the living room of the house and were being cuffed. Backup had arrived in the form of extra agents, and the team was no longer outnumbered at least 2 to 1. _The element of surprise works wonders!_ Clinton had barely gotten Jackrabbit into the living room, when the front door opened, and a black woman in green scrubs appeared, shouting,

“I don’t know no Cleo Wilkins.”

 _Which means you do know her, lady. Double negative_.

_Bloody h**l, how’d you get past the guy outside anyway?_

_Somebody screwed the pooch_.

Seeing the house full of LEOs, the woman started to back-peddle and make for the door … _not that she’d get past those outside a second time … I hope!_ Yet, before she could take two steps, Kateri who had stepped from the living room into the hallway at the sudden noise, raised her gun up, sights firmly on center mass of the unknown woman.

“FBI. Don’t move.”

Eyes went wide in fear. Hands shot up, but still the nurse tried to take another step toward the door. _Do not make me chase you down_.

“I said, Don’t. Move.” Kateri repeated the order much more firmly.

Finally, the nurse froze in place.

_Good._

Switching her grip on her Glock to solely her dominant hand, Kateri took two quick steps forward and grabbed a fist-full of the nurse’s coat, physically dragging the taller woman back several steps.

_Get close enough to stop her from fleeing, but not too close in case she has a knife._

_Can’t tell what’s under all those layers._

_Watch yourself._

_She might be more than she seems. Small quarters for a physical fight._

_Wait for backup to search her._

Having heard the confrontation which had started and was now nearly over in seconds, Clinton appeared from the living room a moment later, gun drawn. His presence and the cover he provided gave Kateri the opportunity she needed. Holstering her gun, she pressed the protesting nurse up against the wall and quickly searched her, checking for any hidden guns, bladed weapons, phones, anything.

“Let me go. I didn’t do anything,” the nurse shouted.

 _And yet you’re in the middle of a gang den_.

“Stop struggling,” Clinton ordered.

“She’s clear. No weapons,” Kateri called a second later, straightening from her crouch but keeping restraining hands on the nurse’s backpack, “Calm down. We just want to talk.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the nurse repeated.

_Yes, yes, so you’ve said._

Kateri and Clinton exchanged looks. Neither of their suspicions were alleviated by anything coming out of this woman’s mouth. Just showing up here did not look good. The Sixes were well-known, and someone did not show up in a gang den for kicks. Clinton’s gun lowered a fraction, but there were still wary looks on both their faces.

“What’s your name? Where do you work?” Kateri asked.

“Sandra Coates,” the nurse replied, “I’m a nurse’s aid at the hospital.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m just meeting a friend,” Coates protested.

_A friend in this place?_

_Not at all suspicious._

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Ava,” Coates replied, starting to struggle again, “She don’t live her. She just told me to meet her here.”

_Definitely not at all suspicious._

Kateri was smaller but stronger, and it did not take that much effort to press the nurse back up against the wall. The sight of Clinton’s gun snapping back up probably also helped convince the nurse that settling down was a good idea.

_Don’t do stupid. Good life advice._

After asking a few more questions and getting no helpful information, Kateri was about to ready to put the nurse in the other room with the others, but a very strange order then came across the comms.

“Kat, let her go,” Jess instructed.

_What in all the bloody blue blazes?_

Kateri glanced across at Clinton, puzzlement and a clear question shining in her eyes. Her partner shrugged helplessly, clearly just as puzzled, but lowered his gun. Kateri stepped back, allowing the nurse to turn around.

Kateri gestured toward the door, “Get out of here.”

Coates did just that. Only when the door had closed behind her did Jess and Barnes finally come back downstairs. Both were tense, and their faces were dark. Something had happened between them, _but what?_

* * *

The explanation for the strange occurrences at the house became clear on the drive back to the bus. Barnes and the nurse knew each other from a 2014 sting operation at the tail end of Barnes’ NYPD days, not long before she had joined the FBI and less than a year before Kateri had herself joined the team.

Coates had clearly been lying about her purpose at the house, and Barnes had a hunch that she knew and had been there for Cleo. The solution? Go back undercover. People were dying, and the nurse seemed to be the team’s best shot at ferreting out Cleo before even more people died or a gang war really got started.

Jess was not happy in the slightest, and Barnes did not seem overly happy with the idea, either.

 _Sometimes you’ve just got to accept where the chips fall_ _… whether you like it or not_.

Cortez was thankfully gone by the time the team returned to the bus, which was almost eerily quiet after the earlier hustle and bustle.

 _Last thing I need or want is dealing with him … again_.

_Once in a day is enough. If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon._

Barnes left for home to say goodbye to the wife and kid and get a few things she needed for the job, while the others had to get things set up for the op in a hurry. Kateri left the others to their tasks and returned to her desk and computer. _Couple things I’ve gotta do before she leaves_. Kateri did not have her notebooks with her, but she did have her online database and her memory, and she needed to double-check a few things for what she was about to do.

_Always good to have a back-up plan, ‘specially on these kinda rushed ops._

By the time Barnes had returned from her and Charlotte’s apartment, everything had been set up as well as it could be for that night. By the Barnes was ready to leave to be dropped off, it was nearly midnight. Hugs and good wishes were exchanged, and Kateri slipped Barnes a neatly folded small square of paper.

“What’s this?” Barnes asked, giving it a puzzled glance.

“Back-up. Just in case. Don’t lose it. Don’t let anyone else see it.”

Understanding filled Barnes’ face. Kateri had compiled a list of a half-dozen contacts in that area of the Bronx, contacts that could hide Barnes or pass messages back to Kateri in case of a real pickle or if the usual lines of communications failed for some undetermined reason.

“Thanks.”

* * *

**[1]** Thank you. <https://kanienkeha.net/grammer/partcle/niawen/>.


	4. Wednesday, October 16: Day 4

Jess and Kenny soon departed to drop off Barnes somewhere, and Clinton sent Hana and Kateri off to get some rest, noting that there was nothing more to do for the moment and that they should take the chance to get some rest, since it had been a really long day. _Extremely, bloody long_. Hana had kindly offered to take the top bunk, which Kateri greatly appreciated. _After this morning, I don’t think me sleeping up top_ _would go so well._

_Or is it yesterday morning? Oh, yep, it’s past midnight by now._

Hana seemed to fall asleep quickly from the pattern of her breathing and then the resulting flopping noises— _please, don’t fall of the bed_ —but Kateri lay away starring at the bottom of the top bunk for a long time. She felt tired, very tired, but as she knew well from past experience, _tired or not, sleep just doesn’t always want to come after my claustrophobia/PTSS does a thing_.

At some point later, Kateri jerked awake to the sound of the bus door opening. _Jess and Kenny must be back_ , she thought muzzily _._ Their quiet voices a moment later confirmed that guess. _I guess I fell asleep after all._ Insomnia was a major problem after days like yesterday, but sleeping very lightly was almost as annoying.

_Not sure which I hate more._

“Where are the girls?” Jess’ voice was quiet, pitched down in deference to the hour and the hushed state of the bus. Even so his voice drifted down the length of the bus.

_Glad Hana’s a hard sleeper_.

“Asleep,” Clinton replied, “They were both crashing after you left so I told them to get some rest while they could.”

_And you stayed up working?_

There was silence for a few minutes except for the sounds of chairs being moved and Kenny settling down for the night. Kateri was finally just starting to drift off again, when Jess spoke again more quietly this time.

“So, what happened this morning?” Jess asked, a question he probably would have asked earlier if there’d ever been a good opportunity. Cortez had been in the way most of the day, and in the middle of a stakeout wasn’t a good time for questions like that. “Kat’s been on edge all day, you’ve barely let her out of your sight, and our NYPD liaison is suddenly public enemy number 1.”

The resulting growl from Kenny was accepted and easy to hear the tone of, though of his words all Kateri could catch was, “Cortez is a …” _Whatever the appellation, it’s not going to be a compliment._

_Probably not printable either._

“Kateri and Cortez know each other from … before,” Clinton’s voice had dropped even lower to a pitch more suited to extended conversations when everyone was trying to sleep, “Their first meeting in a long time nearly turned into a standoff before you and Barnes arrived.”

“A standoff?” Jess sounded shocked, “What happened?”

“Cortez recognized her as Alejandra Moreno, didn’t know she was FBI, and nearly drew on her just as we were arriving.”

“Drew on her?” Jess’ voice grew more shocked, almost incredulous.

_Kinda would like to see his face about now._

“Mm-hmm. Haven’t seen a face that shade of puce in a long time.”

_You really should be trying to go back to sleep._

“What did Kat …?” His last word was inaudible across by the bunks.

_Say? Zilch._

_Do? Zilch_.

_I froze like a deer in headlights_. As much as she felt her reaction was understandable— _and the others’d agree if they knew why_ —Kateri still deemed the incident quite embarrassing.

_Clinton’d give you the look if you said that in front of him_ , the side of her that listened to the shrinks admonished the rest of her.

The side of her that felt the effects of a very long 24-hours just replied, _Yea, yea, yea_.

“Nothing,” her partner’s voice was angry, and for a moment she had the ridiculous fear that he was angry with her. “She’s terrified of him, Jess.” The tone his voice then took on cleared up those fears in an instant. “She took one look at him, he growled at her once, and it sent her straight into the worst panic attack I’ve seen in eighteen months.”

Jess’ reply was too soft to catch, and despite the voices, Kateri could feel herself drifting off again.

“…that we keep Cortez well away … her,” the voices were softer now and blurred together, “ … switched places? ... someone between Cortez and her.”

* * *

Kateri woke again sometime later to the sound of more voices. It was lighter in the bus now, and there were more sounds of people moving about on the other side of the curtain, though they were still obviously trying to be quiet.

_What time is it?_

“She’s not awake, and I don’t want to scare her,” Hana sounded almost unsure of herself.

_What’s she talkin’ about? … Oh, wait, you, sleepy head._ Kateri was the only other woman in the bus at the moment and the only one still asleep. _Still in bed_.

“Just call her name,” Clinton replied, his voice a little distant, “If that doesn’t work, I’ll be there in a minute.”

_Oh, they’re talking about waking me up_.

At certain points the others had to be careful about waking up Kateri and Kenny. After PTSS episodes, both were often light sleeps and, thus, often did not need wake up calls, but at times, especially if they had been dreaming, their waking could be rather … accidently aggressive before the muzziness of sleep faded.

Cloth rustled, and Hana appeared in the gap between the curtain and the wall.

“I’m awake,” Kateri murmured. She pushed herself up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes with her other hand.

_I think_.

“Half awake?” Hana teased.

_Yeaaa, kinda_.

Kateri chuckled, throwing back the covers and pushing herself slowly to her feet with a face-breaking yawn. “I’m up. I’m up.”

“There’s coffee and breakfast out here,” Hana backed out, letting the curtain close behind her.

_Up and at ‘em._

_Time to get to work._

_We’ve got a fugitive to catch._

* * *

There was surprisingly little to do for the first half of the day. The team’s plans for finding Cleo were largely riding on Barnes’ undercover work and what she could learn from the nurse. Barnes’ plan was to go meet her old ‘friend’ mid-afternoon once she got off of work at the hospital, and Kenny and Hana would leave early afternoon to start sitting on Coates’ apartment. Until then it was basically tip-line work, checking with contacts, and keeping an eye on what thugs had/had not been bailed out yet by the Sixes.

_Thankfully, Cortez has not reappeared which makes my day a lot nicer._

_After the conversation last night … uh, this morning … I wonder if the boss had something to do with that._

_Would not be one bit surprised._

Jess, Kenny, and Clinton all knew the competence of their female teammates, but that knowledge did not stop them from being protective in certain situations. Jess just usually managed to be a bit more subtle in how he went about it _… sometimes_.

After lunch Kenny and Hana headed out to start their stake-out, leaving the others at the bus. Kateri soon headed off to one end of the bus for some quiet to make some calls in another attempt to rustle up information about where Cleo might be or who she could be with.

_Across the Bronx, I know everyone from druggies on the street to gang members … and bosses … to shop owners to day laborers and a few categories in between._

_Someone has to have seen something or heard something. Cleo’s good, but she’s not that good. Sooner or later she’s going to make a mistake, and someone’s going to see it._

_There’s a good chance that nurse contact of Barnes’ knows Cleo, but that’s no guarantee._

_Don’t want all our eggs in one basket._

There were different ways of finding a person or group in hiding or, at least, getting clues to what area they were in. Unusual movement in less-populated or abandoned areas. Overly large food purchases by shady-looking people. Strange pharmacy purchases. Unusual thefts from buildings. From her time with Organized Crime and the Fugitive Task Force, Kateri had seen the gambit of clues that had done a fugitive or fugitives in, everything from the mundane to the odd to the ridiculous.

After a lot of phone calls and texts with a few emails and passed messages thrown-in, Kateri got the sense that a few people might know something— _emphasis on the MIGHT_ —but nobody was in the mood to talk at all, not even to Kateri, who was usually deemed safe to snitch to. Cleo’s brazen actions and increasing body count were not winning her a lot of friends, but they were definitely discouraging the little people from going against her.

With a curse and a sigh, Kateri finally rose from the desk, picked up her laptop, and made her way back down the bus to her previous seat beside her partner.

Clinton looked up as she approached. “No luck, I’m guessing?”

_What gave you that idea?_

_Was it the scowling, the cursing, or the mutterings?_

Kateri shook her head, “Nothing. If anyone knows something, they’re not talking. Cleo’s brazenness is helping her in that regard.”

_It was still worth a try. You’ll never know if you coulda got something if you don’t try._

_Sometimes someone’ll surprise you by working up the courage to spill the beans._

Hana’s voice suddenly came over the radio, the receiver for which was right next to Clinton’s chair, “She’s in place.”

_She being Barnes, I’m guessing._

_Here we go_.

“Copy,” Clinton acknowledged the update briefly before his attention returned to the maps covering his screen.

“This one,” Jess suddenly said from behind them.

_This one what?_ Kateri’s head came up and around. _I think I missed something._

Clinton scooted his chair across the aisle so that he could see over Jess’ left shoulder, and Kateri got up and came across to perch on the desk on Jess’ right so that she could peer down at the screen. What Jess had up was an arrest report for Anttwon Lane Perry, a Sixes thug, one of the many who had gotten swept up by the NYPD in the wake of Jackson’s death and Cleo’s rampage.

_Nothing particularly striking that I see about his profile._

_I definitely missed something_. Kateri knew that if she had a role to play in all this … _whatever this is going to be_ … someone would fill her in.

Clinton pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number. “This is Agent Skye. Anttwon Lane Perry, date of birth 9-2-96. Has he been bailed out yet?” Clinton shook his head, indicating the young man hadn’t. Jess gave a thumbs up. “Hold him for us. We’re on our way.”

“What’s the play?” Kateri asked once her partner had finished the call, “And do you need me?”

“Perry has a brother in prison way up state. Hopefully we can use a move for the brother as leverage to get Perry to flip on Cleo,” Clinton stated the cliff notes’ version as he grabbed his jacket from his chair.

“And not right now,” Jess finished, “We’ll be back soon.”

* * *

Kateri was just as glad not to be needed. She’d try to push past her issues and her phobia/PTSS if needed to help her teammates, but after the shock of Cortez reappearing the previous day, the last thing she wanted was to go anywhere near a jail or its small holding cells.

_I’ve had enough of those and similar to last a lifetime_.

Being around a lot of Sixes thugs also increased the risk that she would run across one of them who might recognize her. If someone recognized and word got out, not only would her life be in danger, but also her career would be over for a lot of reasons. _And my list of contacts would suddenly become almost nill._ Only a handful of her contacts … _outside the Crew_ … knew that she was a Fed, and most of her other contacts would not talk to her with the added risk of working with the Feds hanging over their heads if they didn’t turn on her altogether.

About an hour later, Kateri heard the sound of the door at the far end of the bus opening and closing and then the rumble of multiple voices. Sitting at her usual desk mid-bus, Kateri looked up and saw her two teammates and a young black man appear.

“Come over here. Have a seat,” Clinton ordered.

“Why’d you all bring me here, man? My bail’s been posted,” Perry protested.

“Not processed,” Clinton countered, “Sit down.”

_Distinctions, distinctions. So convenient, some days._

“It’s about your brother, Kendrick,” Jess sprung the bait.

“Yeaaa, what about him?”

Jess moved to close the sliding door that could partition off the front compartment from the rest of the bus. While he was silhouetted in the doorway, Kateri caught his eye and raised a questioning eyebrow. _Do you need me?_ She was trying to ask. _Clinton can read my face, but can the boss._

Yes, he could apparently, and Jess shook his head no and finished closing the partition.

The voices were presented then but muted enough that Kateri was able to ignore them and go back to work. Within about fifteen minutes the voices stopped, and shortly afterwards the partition reopened, and her teammates reappeared.

“Did it work?” Kateri asked.

“We have ourselves a mole,” Jess replied, “Perry and the others will be released in the morning. He’s agreed to help, but he won’t wear a wire.”

_We can work with that._

_The important thing is: he agreed_.

_Now to wait some more._

_Hopefully, Barnes is making some progress._


	5. Thursday, October 17: Day 5

After yet another short night, the morning of the fifth day of the hunt dawned. Hana and Kenny were still off sitting on Coates’ place and keeping an eye on Barnes. When the time for the release of Perry and the other Sixes came, Jess and Clinton left for it, but out of an abundance of caution, Kateri stayed at the bus. _Not that I didn’t wish I was there once I saw that video_. Seeing the video of the release later and seeing the almost shoving match between her partner and Perry had not done anything for her anxiety levels in the midst of a stressful case.

What the whole point of Jess and Clinton going there at all had been, Kateri wasn’t totally sure. _Cover for Perry, maybe? I don’t have to know if they thought it a good idea_.

_Some of the people in the video were obviously Sixes and gang members, but some of ‘em looked like normal street folk._

_Amazing whose release people will actually cheer for. Barabbas, anyone?_

_Bloody h**l_.

 _Bloody h**l_.

_How could you know half the things some of those thugs have done and still cheer for their release?_

The rest of the fifth day of the hunt passed quietly for the most part until evening came. With the aid of a burner phone she had taken with her, Barnes had gotten word to them that afternoon that Sandra had gotten a meet set up for the evening, location unknown, so after an early dinner the team left to sit on the apartment complex and wait for the two to move.

 _Hours of waiting for minutes of actions … or of terror_.

Kateri was in one SUV with Jess and Clinton. (Kenny and Hana in another car were parked nearby). The three of them had been parked a little way down the street from Sandra’s complex, having found a spot that was not well illuminated by street lights, thereby giving them some cover. An hour or so had passed when there was suddenly an exclamation from Jess’ direction. He had a laptop open in his lap and been doing something for a little while.

Kateri’s head snapped around at the noise, her attention immediately drawn away from watching passers-by on the street.

_What’s up?_

Clinton looked over, also, and Kateri scooted forward to peer over Jess’ shoulder from the backseat. There was a live-streamed video open on the screen in Jess’ lap. _Cleo Wilkins live and in the flesh. Oh, dear_.

 _This’ll be good_.

“They plant evidence on us, threaten to cut off your mom’s benefits if she don’t snitch on you.” The video was a YouTube livestream with a comment channel already brimming with comments. Cleo, sitting against a cookie-cutter wall with no distinguishing features, was the only figure in the video.

 _Same old schlock. I’ve heard this before_.

“Chain your baby brother, toss your baby’s crib, and now they killed Ty.”

_Wait what? I know there’re bad cops who do awful things and deserve to be locked up, but seriously?_

_We killed Ty? Seriously?_

_1200+ watching and hundreds of likes, for this schlock?_

“But we done: done hidin’, done runnin’, done bein’ locked up and shot for bein’ black.”

_You’re locked up and sometimes shot because you are thugs and criminals of the worst sorts._

_They’re might be some dirty, racist cops who go after you because of the color of your skin—and they deserved to be locked up right ‘long side you—but that’s not the majority_.

 _You’re hunted because you’re a murderer and a thug_.

“This girl’s been to church,” Clinton noted dryly speaking over the broadcast.

Kateri snorted.

“Do you think anyone’s fallin’ for this?” Kenny asked over the comms.

“People are paying attention,” Jess replied, looking out the window, “That’s what matters.”

The neighborhood of the Bronx that they were in was primarily an African American one and a rough neighborhood at that. There were a lot of folks out on the street that evening, some normal folk and some who looked like gang thugs. Many of the people … _if not the majority_ … had their faces glued to their phone screens. _Three guesses and two don’t count what they’re watching_.

“Lies have consequences,” Cleo was still talking.

_Taken on its own, I actually agree with you on that._

_Stopped clock is right twice a day, as the saying goes_.

“Hate has consequences.”

_True. It brought you to this point._

“And when they come after one of us, they comin’ after all of us.”

 _I understand the sentiment, but that’s a slippery slope_.

“Those biographies she read—Joan of Arc, Julius Caesar—those are instruction manuals to here,” Jess was switching into profiling mode, “Grandiose, narcissistic … delusional.”

_Emphasis on the delusional!_

Wilkins was still talking, “Ty showed me how to take on the world. He said dreams aren’t enough.”

_Dreams aren’t enough for what?_

_Nearly 1400 watching, and almost 500 likes. Good heavens!_

“You got to show ‘dem the power, and that’s what I’m goin’ to do.”

 _Nothing distinctive about the wall behind her. No noises through the feed. Nothing to distinguish where she is. Bloody h**l_.

“I’m going to fix ‘dis. Step up, or step away. With me, or against me.”

_Okay._

With that dire warning, the video ended, and just in time since a few seconds later, Kenny called over the comms that Barnes was on the move. The two women emerged from the apartment complex, and the team tailed them at a distance to a corner store within the edge of Sixes’ territory.

_Not that the nurse would have noticed, I think, if we tailed her from six feet away._

_Being oblivious is not a good thing for a lot of reasons in this part of town._

_Others in the vicinity would notice the tail, though_.

The two disappeared into the store, and then it was time to wait again and see who showed up. Barnes did not have a wire, but she did have a tracker that worked within 200 meters, so even if they could not visually see her, the team still knew where she was.

 _Or that’s, at least, how it’s supposed to go_.

_Emphasis on the “supposed to.”_

_Ack, don’t jinx things._

Within a couple of minutes, Barnes’ signal began to fade in and out, however, or so Kenny’s resulting, growled grumblings indicated. “I’m losin’ her. She must be in the basement.”

 _Bloody h**l_.

_You jinxed things._

_This just gets better and better._

Unless the team went in and risked blowing Barnes’ cover, her being in the basement meant that Barnes had no backup and that the team had no eyes on or means of tracking any of the players. Without eyes, Cleo or anyone else high up in the Sixes’ hierarchy could be there in that basement and at that meeting, and the team would never know until Barnes could slip them the word. By then, any chance of capturing them or tailing them would be lost.

 _Bloody h**l_.

Clinton and Kateri exchanged a troubled glance, and Jess was quiet for a long second, his face growing darker and darker before he finally replied to Kenny’s last statement, “I’m not letting her fly solo. Let’s move.”

 _Here we go_.

Everyone piled out of the cars and made for the corner shop. Kateri could only hope that Jess had made the right call because their actions were drawing a lot of attention. Five agents wearing Kevlar proclaiming that they were FBI in large yellow letters, agents who had just pouring from government-esque SUVs, were not exactly run-of-the-mill in this neighborhood. People were going to talk, and the word was going to spread.

_And fast._

_Church grape vines and office water coolers have nothin’ next to word on the street._

With the loud jingling of the doorbell as the shop door was shoved open, Hana was the first inside. “Health Department,” she hollered in the direction of the cashier’s desk.

_That’s the best you can come up with?_

_Our vests say FBI!_

Kateri was hot on her partner’s heels as the agents wound their way through the storefront, past racks of goods and customers with wide eyes. She kept her head on a swivel. The team was not in friendly territory here, and while she was not the paranoid-type seeing enemies in every face, staying aware kept you alive.

 _Especially in our line of work_.

There was a door along the back wall of the shop that led into a dark hallway— _prime place for an ambush or something creepy to happen_ —and then to a series of steps down into the basement. In the basement were even more narrow passageways. _Definitely a good place for an ambush_. Kateri could feel the slight pricklings of unease start at the sight of the confined spaces. _Don’t have time for this!_ With an effort she made herself refocus on the here and now. _There’s work to be done. You’ve got to focus_. _Barnes’ life could be a stake if things go bad and she’s got no back-up._

Guns were drawn, and tac lights turned on. Clinton ended up first in line with Kateri behind him, and slowly the team started moving forward, clearing hall after hall after hall. There were a lot of hallways— _tunnels really_ —a lot more than should just be in the basement of one building, and Kateri quickly realized that they must be moving between buildings.

_More like a labyrinth._

_Where’s a ball of string when we need one_.

Slowly the tunnels started to get larger, widening out into a passageway twice the width of some of the narrower ones. Kateri was happy for that both for her claustrophobia’s sake and for safety’s sake. Wider tunnels meant that the team wasn’t hemmed in, meant that they could advance in more than single file … _so we’re not sitting ducks_ , meant that there was room to move and evade in case of a fire fight. _Considering that we’re not wallcrawlers and can’t go straight up, even though this is New York_.

Suddenly a shot rang out, echoing loudly off the stone walls of the tunnels.

Everyone froze in place, guns up, trying to pin-point the exact direction of the sound, which shot a bolt of horror through Kateri’s heart.

 _Bloody, bloody h**l_.

_Don’t let that be Barnes._

_Don’t let that be Barnes._

_Please Lord!_

Clinton was the first to pinpoint the direction from which the gunshot had occurred, and he hurried forward, the others on his heels. The tunnels soon got smaller again, and they were forced to return to single file, but still they hurried on, clearing as they went.

 _Don’t let that be Barnes_.

Given what Cleo was like, Kateri could just have easily seen her going after one of her own gang members as the potential new hire.

The overhead lighting that had been present further back faded away until the only lighting was from the tac-lights on their guns. _Darkness + confined spaces, oh joy._ The darkness was so dark that it was almost oppressive, settling over them like a thick shroud. _The sooner this is over, the better_. There were side doors and side-passageways off the main tunnel, and those had to be cleared, too, as the team passed. _Don’t want people coming out of nowhere on our six. That’d be a recipe for disaster._

As the team came around another corner, a body became visible lying face-down on the floor a few yards ahead. From the clothes and the length of the hair, it was immediately evident that it was not Barnes. _Thank God!_ Holstering his gun, Clinton crouched at the body’s side and put two fingers to its neck. Next in line, Kateri kept her gun and light up scanning the tunnel up ahead for danger while her partner worked.

After a few seconds Clinton shook his head. _Bloody h**l. He’s dead_. At a second glance Kateri had recognized the fallen figure as Anttwon Perry, the team’s erstwhile mole in Cleo’s ranks. _So much for that idea. He knew the risk._

One hand tapped her shoulder, and Kateri moved left in front of the body, allowing Kenny to squeeze up on her right, the tunnel being just barely wide enough for the two to walk abreast. _Helps that I’m smaller_.

The tac-lights revealed a less than ideal scene a few yards in front of the team’s current location. At that point, the one tunnel they were in currently branched off into two tunnels going forward. Unless they were going to split up—two to one tunnel and three to the other— _which would be a very, very bad idea_ —the hunt was at an end.

_Barnes’ on her own for now._

_Bloody h**l_.

* * *

With some amount of effort— _bloody labyrinth_ —the team retraced their steps out of the tunnels back to the corner shop and back to the cars. No one was in a good mood. Perry was dead. Cleo was in the wind and probably knew that there had been a snitch in her ranks. _We’ve got to assume she figured it out. It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise that Perry is the one who got shot._ Barnes was on her own, location unknown. Jess stepped away to place a call to get Perry’s body collected, and then it would be time to regroup.

_And figure out what the h**l to do next and how and where and when and …._

Kateri cut herself off from that train of thought and leaned back against the SUV that she had been in earlier, scrubbing her hands through her hair. _Calm down. Calm down._ Between the anxiety from the narrow tunnels and her worry for Barnes’ safety, she was trying for her second panic attack in three days. _Not the time for this. Not the time for this_.

Sometimes her brain felt more irrational than others. _You are not in those tunnels now, so why are you choosing now to really panic about it????_

A hand settled on her shoulder, and Kateri opened her eyes. Kenny had appeared next to her, and she hadn’t even heard his footsteps or noticed him move. _Last time I noticed … you were over that away with Hana._

“You okay, Kat?” He asked.

_Working on it._

“I handled those bloody small tunnels,” Kateri replied, her voice almost level, “but now for some reason I’m trying to have a panic attack.”

_Doesn’t make one whit of sense._

“Just breathe. You’re okay.”

Clinton was off … somewhere … doing something. In the darkness of the street, Kateri had lost track of where her partner was. _And we’re not in danger, so that’s not another reason to panic!_ Kenny knew how to help, though.

Kateri forced herself to slow her breathing.

_You know the drill._

_In for 5 seconds. Hold for 2 seconds. Out for 5 seconds. Rinse. Repeat_.

 _In for 5 seconds. Hold for 2 seconds. Out for 5 seconds. Rinse. Repeat_.

 _In for 5 seconds. Hold for 2 seconds. Out for 5 seconds. Rinse. Repeat_.

“I almost felt a little claustrophobic down,” Kenny noted after a minute or two had passed, “so it wasn’t just you.”

“Yea, those were bloody small,” Kateri replied, scrubbing her hands across her face and slowly relaxing back against the car door. Her panic attacks could be headed off at the pass if caught before critical mass, and _I got lucky this time._ “I’m okay.”

Kenny squeezed her shoulder and then retreated back a half-step to give her space. “Barnes’ tracker is out of range, and her extra burner’s no longer in service,”— _probably ditched it. I would have_ —“so once Jess’ finished his call, I think we’re heading back to the bus.”

“When the boss knows there’s a snitch is not the best time to risk being seen with extra phones. Barnes probably ditched it. I would have.”

Before more could be said, Clinton appeared. “Time to go.” Kenny nodded and hurried off to the other car where Hana was waiting for him. “You okay, kid?”

“Fine now,” Kateri replied, “Those tunnels were just a bit small.”

“That they were.”

* * *

The team was half-way back to the bus when one of Kateri’s phone began to buzz. At any point in time, Kateri usually had at least 2 to 3 phones scattered over her person. There was her work phone, her personal phone, and her burner, which she used to keep in contact with contacts across the Tri-State area. It was her burner that was buzzing. _Barnes!_

An explosion of loud Arabic in a deep tenor met her ear as she accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear. Whenever she called him or he called her, Hasaan, an immigrant from Egypt who owned a small shop few miles away, always opened that way … as long as things were normal. If there was a problem or it wasn’t safe for him to talk, he spoke in English. Hasaan was one of the few contacts that Kateri had … _aside from Billy and the Crew_ … who knew her real identity.

“Awya, awya, eih elly hasal?”[1] Kateri answered in Arabic. She knew only a few words of Masri, the Egyptian dialect of Arabic, and like Hasaan did, would open with Arabic if she could talk or would reply in English if she could not.

Hasaan’s message was short. Their cousin— _i.e., Barnes_ —who had been traveling was safe and well and would arrive at home— _HQ_ —on schedule that evening. _Hotel would be the bus_.

“Shukraan.”[2]

Kateri ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket.

“News?” Jess, who was driving this time, asked.

“Barnes is okay. She’s heading back to HQ.”

* * *

The team changed course and headed back to HQ instead of to the bus. They had only been back less than half-an-hour when Barnes still in her undercover getup appeared in the doorway. She looked stressed and exhausted and … shaken. _Nothing like watching someone being gunned down in front of you and not being to react to test your mettle_. After quick greetings and hugs and confirmations that she was okay, the conversation turned to the meet. It had been Cleo that Sandra had taken Barnes to meet.

“She was right beside me,” Barnes exclaimed when her summary of the meet came to Anttwon’s death, “There wasn’t a d**n thing I could do.” Her voice was as shaken as her face, and her hands moved restlessly as she talked.

 _Bullet to the head. At least it was quick for him and for you_. What was worse was the long drawn out … things … where you had to keep your mouth shut for a whole lot longer. _It’s worse when they scream_.

“This is not your fault,” Jess emphasized from his seat at the conference table.

Barnes, who was almost in tears, did not look convinced. _Not in the slightest_.

“Look!” Jess ordered, rising from his seat and coming around the length of the table, past Hana and Kenny, and past Clinton who was standing at the other end of the table. Jess pointed to the right screen on which pictures of the victims of Cleo’s killing spree were visible, “Ever since Cleo took over, 12 people have been gunned down. She created this chaos. It’s on her.”

 _Doesn’t make it any easier to sit there and be able to do nothing. Worst part of being undercover_. Kateri noted silently to herself. She had taken a seat on the bench over by the lockers and was sitting knees pulled up to her chest, arms locked around her knees. _Say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, look the wrong way at the wrong time … you can blow your cover in an instant and just get yourself killed, and then nobody’ll know what happened._

“She has epilepsy,” Barnes revealed, “My friend Sandy sneaks her anti-seizure drugs from the hospital.”

 _Okaaayyyy. That’s … not what I was expecting_.

“Of course, she has epilepsy,” Jess countered. Everyone was getting a little worked up, and he almost seemed … _I’m tired. He’s bothered, but I’m having trouble dissecting his voice_. “The books she reads: Teddy Roosevelt, Julius Caesar. They all had epilepsy and overcame it. She has a fetish for her own condition.”

 _Now that’s not at all disturbing_.

Jess was still talking, voice rising, “She thinks it makes her special, powerful.” _Calm down, boss_. “Now look at this, look at this,” he grabbed the drawing Cleo had made as a child and pointed to it, “the child towering over the adults. The longer she evades capture, the bigger the child gets.”

Kateri gritted her teeth. _Everyone wants to catch her, boss, but you’re just making things worse yelling_. Barnes was still upset— _understandably so_ —and the tension was just rising higher and higher as the meeting dragged on. Kateri pushed herself to her feet with a muffled tired sigh— _I don’t even want to know what time it is_ —and moved up to stand beside her partner who looked over and gave her a sympathetic half-smile.

“Hey, boss,” Kenny broke into the conversation, “Take a look. Anttwon’s phone was missing, but I found this in the cloud.” He climbed to his feet with a protesting creek of springs from his chair and came around so Jess could see his tablet and what he had found. “Look, floor plans it looks like.”

The tablet was tilted so Clinton and Kateri could see the screen, too. The photo was of a blood-stained square of paper sitting on what was probably a table. The paper did seem to show a floor plan, though the exact details were somewhat hidden by all the blood spatters.

“Dollar sign,” Clinton noted, pointing to the top-right corner of the paper, “Maybe somebody’s stash.”

 _Good eyes, partner. I can’t see anything for all that blood_.

“Hana, bring up the crime scene photos from the shootout,” Jess asked. His voice had calmed, and his face had shifted to his thinking one from his exasperated/annoyed one.

The right screen shifted to display all the photos that ERT had taken at the warehouse after Cleo had carried out the massacre. _Bodies sprawled all over, lots and lots of blood, various bits of furniture. More blood. What exactly are we looking for?_

“Show me that table,” Jess asked.

Hana switched the pictures. The table was an old, grungy, undesirable looking thing that would have been undesirable before all the blood, and the blood just made it all the more disgusting looking. _Waitttttttt … the blood. There’s a hole right in the middle of that blood spatter where there should be blood, but there isn’t_.

Jess noticed the same thing within moments and held the tablet up toward the screen comparing the blood spatter on the paper to the blood spatter on the table. “After Cleo killed them,” he mused, “She took the sketch with her. That’s what the meeting was about. They were planning a heist.”

“The sketch’s on the Diablos’ side of the table,” Clinton noted, “Maybe they’re planning to rip off their own stash.”

Kateri snorted, shifting slightly on her feet to help keep herself awake. Now that fieldwork was done for the evening and the adrenaline of the search was wearing off, tiredness was setting in. _I’m so tired. I don’t want to know what time it is_. “Wouldn’t surprise me. You go after the Diablos, they’ll come after you as one, and once they’re done chopping you to pieces, maybe literally, they’ll just go straight back to taking out each other. There’ve been so many intra-gang wars with the Diablos, it’s not even funny.”

_How they haven't basically taken themselves out, I don't understand some days._

“That would explain the secret meeting with the Rolling Sixes,” Kenny added.

“So now Cleo’s going after the stash,” Hana concluded.

 _Seems the likely conclusion_.

“That would solve her money problems,” said Barnes, whose face had calmed over the last couple minutes.

“Might solve our problems, too,” Jess replied, “Clinton, check in with the DEA. See if their Agent Garcia got any intel on where the Diablos keep their stash.”

Clinton stepped away to make the call, leaving the others to think and plan while they waited. _Jess’ really got his thinking face on. … Is one of your very you of you plans forthcoming?_ The sniper returned within a few minutes but with little to report. The DEA were going to check whether Garcia had any intel about that, but the search would take a little time.

_Chop, chop. Clock’s tickin’._

Jess did have a very Jess plan up of his sleeves: a press conference to tweak every possible button Cleo had and draw her out of hiding, force her to push up the time table for her plans, and then with Barnes’ help catch her in the act.

 _This’ll be interesting_.

* * *

[1] Egyptian Arabic. “Yes, yes, what’s happened?”

[2] Egyptian Arabic. “Thanks.”


	6. Friday, October 18: Day 6

The end was hopefully finally in sight, but there was a lot of work left to be done first. As was often the case on these hunts, it was a long night with very little sleep for anyone. There was little time to put all the pieces in place before the press conference the next morning. The five agents took turns sleeping and working. There were two beds at the back of the team’s basement meeting/muster room and one reasonably comfortable sofa, which unfortunately did not pull out, but unlike the bus, the floor was too hard to even try sleeping on.

_I’ve slept on some very uncomfortable things and in some crazy places, but on concrete … not even worth bothering._

By sunup, most of the plans were in place, and a press conference had been arranged for 10am with multiple local news broadcasters in attendance. _Jess has a talent for tweaking people. We’ll just have to see if Cleo will take the bait_.

_If she doesn’t, we will probably have a problem on our hands._

About 8am, Kenny and Hana left to sit on the nurse’s place and keep an eye out for any signal from Barnes, who had returned there late the previous night … _or was it early this morning? I was kinda avoiding looking at my watch. Sometimes you just don’t want to know what unearthly hour of the morning it is_.

_No point in torturing yourself when there’s no way of avoiding the problem._

Just before 10am, Kateri was standing along the far-left wall of the big, fancy room upstairs at HQ that was used for major press briefings. Everything had been set up and prepared. Many reporters from multiple major news station with their assistants and big, honking’ cameras were in attendance. (The presence of the cameras was why Kateri was standing alone one wall and would not be up with Jess like her partner. _Don’t know who all’ll be watching_. _Not blowing it now!_ ) A giant version of Cleo’s Wanted Poster had been set up on a display at the front of the room along with two other giant poster boards depicting the names and photos of the bodies of all of Cleo’s victims.

_So many names. So many pictures_.

Now, all Jess had to do was be Jess

At 10am sharp Jess and Clinton entered along with a handful of other people.

_Here we go._

Jess was a masterful public speaker when he put his mind to it, and today was no exception.

“That’s the toll so far of the gang war instigated by Cleo Wilkins,” Jess stated once he had summarizing the case and discussed the great human cost in lives of Wilkin’s brutal take-over.

The reporters started shouting questions, and the noise level skyrocketed to near-deafening levels … _well, more like noise-canceling levels since I can’t hear anything but them. Even if he we’re going to answer questions, how would he be supposed to hear anything with all of you talking over each other? Seriously!_ Jess raised a hand for silence, and the reporters finally quieted.

“I’d like to say a few words about the man whose shoes Miss Wilkins is trying to fill, Tyrone Jackson.”

Kateri took a quick sip of coffee to hide her smirk. To further the point that he was trying to make, Jess’ tone-of-voice was carefully picked and pitched in order to engender sympathy for Jackson in his audience, which would also serve to hopefully goad Cleo out of hiding. Kateri, however, had had too little sleep and too little coffee to be able to pull off the studiously blank face that her partner had down to an art form.

“Tyrone Jackson was a criminal, but he also gave back to his community, paid for funerals, helped people pay their heating bills, even helped bring a supermarket to his neighborhood to give jobs to young people.”

_Even Pablo Escobar did some good deeds, financed by his own twisted actions._

_Even Billy’s done good stuff._

_Rarely is someone 100% bad_.

“Tyrone Jackson helped his people with the tools that he had at his disposal until Cleo Wilkins cut him down.” The pitch of Jess’ voice and his deliberate pause were masterfully done, and the reporters started clamoring again, voice overlapping voice.

_Well done, boss_.

“What has Cleo Wilkins done?” Jess continued, speaking over the reporters, “She turned your streets into a war zone. By her hand or by her orders she has killed all these people,” he gestured toward the photos of the victims, photos deliberately chosen to show the death wounds.

_Gory photos, newspapers love those_.

“And right now, thirteen of her gang members are in jail because she either can’t be bothered or doesn’t have the money to bail them out.”

_That’ll definitely tweak her, too_.

“Maybe she just doesn’t know how to bring in the money. Either way, she’s no Ty Jackson. Thank you.”

On that extremely pointed note, Jess finished his speech and stepped away from the podium, Clinton falling in at his side. Once they were almost to the exit, Kateri stepped forward and fell in on his other side. Out in the quiet hallway, Jess spoke pointedly as they all headed toward the elevator to take them to the carpack, “If that doesn’t tweak her …”

“I don’t know what will,” Kateri finished dryly.

* * *

After the press conference, it was time to wait again, wait to see what Cleo would do, wait to see if she took the bait and if Cleo contacted Barnes. A SWAT team had already been put on standby so that the team could move as soon as Cleo played her opening hand. _Now to wait_.

Very little waiting was actually involved. Less than an hour after the press conference ended and shortly before Kateri and the others reached the apartment complex, an update from Kenny came over the comms, “Barnes’ on the move.”

A few seconds later, Hana added, “She’s going to a meet.”

_It worked!_

_Her narcissism and delusions of grandeur have backfired_.

Clinton was driving their car, so Jess was able to turn to look back over his shoulder at Kateri in the backseat. “Get SWAT rolling,” He instructed.

“Yes, boss,” Kateri nodded and pulled out her work phone to place the call, while the other half of her attention was still on the updates coming over coms.

Another update came in quick succession while her phone was still ringing, “Van just pulled up. Can’t tell if Cleo’s inside.”

_Come on, pick up!_

“Uh, oh, new player on the field.”

At the same moment the phone call connected, and Kateri was forced to turn her attention away from comms and focus on calls. The SWAT … _dispatcher? Phone person?_ … was on ball, and with a team already on standby, it took very little to get the ball rolling and the team on its way. The only wrinkle was now knowing exactly where the SWAT team … _or us …_ were actually supposed to be heading, but that problem was partially rectified by feeding the SWAT tech the GPS locations for the two SUVs and telling them to join up.

The Rolling Sixes van did not take a direct course to the target location and spent some time just taking a meandering course through the Bronx. _The better to lose tails_. But finally, another update came from Kenny and Hana who were directly tailing the van, while Kateri and the others were taking a parallel course on a nearby street.

_The more cars in a tail, the more obvious you are._

“They turned down an alley off San Ramons,” said Hana, “We’ll get made if we follow.”

_San Ramons, what the h**l is along San Ramons to interest the Rolling Sixes?_

_Not a place I would expect the Diablos to be hiding their stash._

_Hard to tell, I guess, since DEA didn’t have anything for us_.

“Stay put,” Jess instructed Hana, “If you lose the signal come to me.” He put up a hand to block his com. To Clinton, he said, “Drive around to the opposite side of that complex.” To Kateri, “Update SWAT. It’s go time.”

* * *

Barnes’ tracker … and the noise … led the team with SWAT for backup straight to the fifth floor of what was actually an apartment complex and straight to Apartment 5J. They were less than a minute behind Cleo and her gang when they poured into the apartment from multiple entrances with shouts of “FBI” and “Don’t move.”

The living room where all of Cleo’s thugs as well as Barnes and her nurse ‘friend’ (the new player on the field, apparently) were gathered was large, its walls covered with weird pictures. Near the door there was a table covered in booze bottles, and fancy leather furniture took up a lot of floor space. Cleo was by the couch at the far end of the room from the door, her face a picture of consternation and anger.

_Guessing she didn’t find the stash?_

The Diablos for all their infighting were not stupid. Kateri would not have been at all surprised if they had moved their stash shortly after some of their players got offed.

_What is the nurse even doing here?_

Clinton drove one particularly large thug, the closest to them, to his hands and knees, and once Thug #1 was down, Kateri shifted from covering her partner to covering Cleo. SWAT was pouring into the room, and most hands were going up. _Overwhelming odds aren’t what most want to go up against._ Not Cleo, though.

And not one of the other thugs, either.

Thing #2’s back had been to the door and to Barnes, but he started to swivel and fight Barnes for control of her gun. Barnes was the better fighter and easily overpowered him, twisting him and slamming him up against a bookshelf, pressing the gun to his chest.

There was only one gigantic problem.

In that violent but quick struggle, the terrified nurse was shoved away from her previous protected position near Barnes into the center of the room … close to Cleo.

And Cleo, who had no compunctions against taking out her own people and no concerns about collateral damage, took two steps forward before anyone could react, grabbed a fist-full of the nurse’s coat, and dragged her backwards to use as a human shield.

_Bloody, bloody h**l_.

_After all Coates did for you, Cleo, this is the thanks she gets?_

_Even Billy is smarter than that_.

“Cleo, let her go,” Barnes shouted, shoving the thug she had just taken out in the direction of the door and a waiting SWAT officer and then swiveling back towards Wilkins.

“Let me out, or I’m gonna kill her,” Cleo shouted back, her gun pressed firmly to Sandra’s unprotected side.

_Multiple broken ribs, massive internal injuries if she fires._

_At least we’ve got Kevlar._

“Let her go, Cleo,” Barnes repeated.

Cleo was moving, moving, moving, swiveling to try to face each threat head on at the same time. Her face was almost maniac, and Sandra was obviously terrified, almost frozen in place. _Not good. Not good for getting this solved peacefully_.

Clinton moved a step forward and to one side, giving Kateri room to move back to his side after subduing another thug and shoving him out of the way back towards SWAT, who got him out of the room.

“I brought you in,” Cleo bit out, fiery gaze fixed on Barnes, “Knew she was a cop.” It wasn’t clear whether her final words were a statement or a question.

Sandra shook her head frantically and sobbed out a no, and Barnes added, “She had nothing to do with this trap.”

“It was Anttwon,” Jess spoke for the first time, moving forward, “The guy you let back in.”

_Ouch._

Heavy breathing for a moment. “Snitches all around,” Cleo growled. “I walk out, or this bitch is dead.”

_That threat doesn’t even make sense. You take her out here. She’s dead, but you’re dead a second later._

_You need her alive if you’re going to have any hope of getting out of here alive_.

_You’re riding on the fact that we don’t want collateral and will do what we have to do to keep her alive._

“You hurt her, and you don’t come out alive,” Barnes shot back, verbalizing Kateri’s own thoughts.

_Still no target. They’re too close in height._

_Bloody h**l_.

Barnes moved forward slowly several steps, “Sandra protected you. She helped you when you got sick in school. She brought you meds. She’s a better person than you or me.” There was a depth of emotion in her voice that contained a note of almost disbelief. “And you’re going to kill her for real? How’s that going to make you look?”

_Like the crazy loon that you are_.

“She’s right,” Jess broke in at that point, “You’re already a legend, Cleo.”

Cleo’s grip on her gun tightened, the barrel being pressed more and more firmly into Sandra’s shoulder, but Cleo was listening. Kateri could see it in her eyes.

_You’ve got her attention now, boss._

_Reel her in._

“Five days you had us chasing our tails, the whole FBI,” Jess continued, slowly moving forward step by step.

“And you never left your turf,” Barnes took up the reel. The two of them, the boss and his right hand, were good at playing off of each other.

“That’s right,” Cleo replied, “I outsmarted you.” Her voice was pointed and very, very proud.

_Wellllllll … somewhat. Mainly ‘cause we were playing catch up._

_You’re a new player on the field, and that helped you, too._

Kateri glanced right for a second past her partner. There was room to move around behind him between him and the wall. _Could I get a better sight picture on Cleo if I moved?_ Cleo’s attention was fixed forwards on Jess and Barnes. _Would she notice if I moved?_

_Might try if she starts escalating. Best to wait for now._

“That you did,” Jess agreed, “but if you hurt this one good person, that all goes out the window.” Slow steps took him forward until he was flanking Barnes. “Those people you admire—Joan of Arc, Caesar, Alexander the Great—for them there’s only one power play that matters.”

“And what’s that?” Cleo’s laser-like focus was fixed on Jess, who was slowing moving forward again.

Seeing Jess move up, Clinton shifted just enough to brush shoulders with Kateri and then flicked his eyes left. _Time to move._ Taking the hint, Kateri shifted back a step to allow her partner to move over to flank Jess, and Kateri moved back up on her partner’s right hand. _Which gives me room to move right if I need to_.

“You give us permission to take you in,” Jess replied.

_She what now?_

“Permission?????” Cleo seemed as puzzled as Kateri felt.

_What’s the play, boss?_

“You control your own destiny?” Jess explained, “You stand tall like all those great men and women.”

“Word’ll get out, Cleo,” Barnes added, “You called the play.”

_Okay, now I get it._

_She might be just conceited enough to fall for it_.

“When you get to prison,” Barnes finished, “You’re walkin’ on water.”

There was a long silence, as Cleo looked around and around the room, cataloging all the opposition, before finally she lowered her gun, released her hold on Sandra, and took a step backwards. There was no way out, so she chose to live and be a legend.

* * *

There was already a crowd lining the street as Cleo and her thugs were marched outside. Some of the faces were condemning, others admiring. Cleo was strutting, smirk firmly in place, as if she was on the red carpet, not handcuffed and being led off to jail. Kateri let her eyes flick over the crowd, cataloging faces, looking for any clues that there might be someone in the crowd who wanted an opportunity to take out Cleo, _who hadn’t exactly made herself a lot of friends this past week. Ty was a thug, but in his territory, he was well loved_.

Only when Cleo was handed off to waiting agents and marched away to a transport truck, did Kateri let herself relax and her hand drift away from her holstered gun. _All’s well that ends well._ She had been genuinely worried inside that Sandra had been about to become Victim #13 of Cleo’s week-long rampage.

Everyone gathered around Barnes at the corner of the apartment building next to the street.

“You good,” Kenny asked, glancing toward Cleo for a moment and then back at Barnes.

“Sure,” Barnes replied, seeming half-distracted and exhausted both.

_Your tone of voice does nothing to convince me of that._

“You had us worried when you jumped in that van,” added Hana.

“Iron lady,” was Clinton’s appellation for Barnes. The two fist-bumped.

“Now go home,” Jess instructed, “Hug your kid.”

_Sounds like a good plan._


End file.
